Thank you for this dispatch, Damon. I know it's hard wrought. This piece recalls Steinbeck for me: "Results, not causes; results, not causes. The causes lie deep and simple—the causes are a hunger in a stomach, multiplied a million times; a hunger in a single soul, hunger for joy and some security, multiplied a million times; muscles and mind aching to grow, to work, to create, multiplied a million times. The last clear definite function of man—muscles aching to work, minds aching to create beyond the single need—this is man."
It amazes me the work ethic ... and energy of some people ... especially Hispanics. It is as much a part of their lives as is death. With each hour worked they are closer to what? Like burros tied to a mill, they plod along, doing their work without complaint. The meaning of it all is etched in the smiles of their children. Thank you for this story, and thank you for the Spanish. I could read it all except one word ... cansado ... tired.
And it doesn't matter whether you're making minimum wage or a corporate salary. My husband's a computer programmer and he's really ready to retire three years from now. And every day is a slog. We all want to go fishin'. Working six jobs seven days a week, though, leaves no time for family and any kind of rest unless he has good compadres at the jobs. That would make up for a lot of crap.
I like the sparse lines that keep coming att me the way the white lines in the road keep coming at you at 3 in the morning, how it echoes those broken, half-finished thoughts my manic brain scrolls through when I'm driving to work. And I love the way the ending captures the plight of all writers: trying to find the words and a place to begin the story, a context for it that will make sense to others.
Thank you for the empathetic comment, Sean. We keep find the hours, the connections, and the endings as we can. Sometimes the story is about where you are. You tell it or you write it. Then you move on with the hope that another will find you.
Thank you for this dispatch, Damon. I know it's hard wrought. This piece recalls Steinbeck for me: "Results, not causes; results, not causes. The causes lie deep and simple—the causes are a hunger in a stomach, multiplied a million times; a hunger in a single soul, hunger for joy and some security, multiplied a million times; muscles and mind aching to grow, to work, to create, multiplied a million times. The last clear definite function of man—muscles aching to work, minds aching to create beyond the single need—this is man."
Thank you for the Steinbeck quote, Charles. "Minds aching to create beyond the single need" is an insight that I hope sits with many people.
It amazes me the work ethic ... and energy of some people ... especially Hispanics. It is as much a part of their lives as is death. With each hour worked they are closer to what? Like burros tied to a mill, they plod along, doing their work without complaint. The meaning of it all is etched in the smiles of their children. Thank you for this story, and thank you for the Spanish. I could read it all except one word ... cansado ... tired.
Thank you, Sue. There are people everywhere everyday working hour after hour to do little more than survive. Those are the circumstances of the world.
And it doesn't matter whether you're making minimum wage or a corporate salary. My husband's a computer programmer and he's really ready to retire three years from now. And every day is a slog. We all want to go fishin'. Working six jobs seven days a week, though, leaves no time for family and any kind of rest unless he has good compadres at the jobs. That would make up for a lot of crap.
I have decided to go fishing! Thank you for the gentle prod!
your keen observation and ability to describe the intimacies of the everyday world around continues to blow me away.
Thank you, Tabby Ivy. Your works are again and again kind.
So great, Damon. I wanted it to continue.
Thank you so much, Paul.
I like the sparse lines that keep coming att me the way the white lines in the road keep coming at you at 3 in the morning, how it echoes those broken, half-finished thoughts my manic brain scrolls through when I'm driving to work. And I love the way the ending captures the plight of all writers: trying to find the words and a place to begin the story, a context for it that will make sense to others.
Thank you for the empathetic comment, Sean. We keep find the hours, the connections, and the endings as we can. Sometimes the story is about where you are. You tell it or you write it. Then you move on with the hope that another will find you.