My Heroes - What Ever Happened To The Good Old Days

Yesterday, I visited a website, and on the website there was a question posed about heroes. The question asked was, Who were my heroe(s)? Not needing to give it any thought, I immediately answered the question and stated that I considered my parents to be my heroes.

My parents were products of the 1920s and 30s. Nether of my parents finished high school, but they both knew how to read and write. Needless to say, they struggled to make ends meet, but by the grace of God they did, for I cannot remember a time when we went without food or clothes on our backs. We had a roof over our heads, and it wasn't government subsidized. My dad and his friends built our home. No it wasn't much, with three bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room (that also had a bed in it), a den and a bathroom. Three bedroom, you might say is a lot, but my parents had 15 children, but only half was in the home at one time, as there's a huge age difference between the first 8 and the last 7.

But even without a high school education, my parents instilled morals and values in each one of us. It did me proud when the neighbors highlighted this fact to my parents, so I can only imagine how proud they were hearing it.

We surely didn't have a lot of money, so mom made good use of what little they had. She always said, if she had eggs, flour, potatoes, rice and sugar, then she could make a meal. Now mind you, this meal may have consisted of enough starch to make a dietician have spasms, but as my dad used to say, "A belly full is a belly full. Didn't matter what made it full."

No one in the neighborhood had better not catch you doing what you weren't suppose to be doing, or they'd whip your butt, and of course that meant you were in for another butt whipping when you got home. And to top it off, you usually had to go out and pick your own switch too. And you'd better have your butt inside when the street lights came on at dusk, if you knew what was good for you. Boy, I didn't know it then, but those sure were the good old days.

My parents also instilled work ethics in all of us. I began working at thirteen years old, and all throughout high school, I supplied my own needs, as well as help contribute to my siblings needs as well. There was no if, and, or buts about it. Nothing was given to you. Really, there was nothing to give, so you had to work if you wanted to have anything. And I've been working ever since.

Next year, on June 16, 2007, I will officially retire, with FULL benefits, from a job that I've held for the past 30 years. And I'll only be 48 years young. How's that for work ethics? I'm proud of this accomplishment, and I pray I've instilled the same work ethics in my children.

Both of my parents are now deceased, but I pray they're looking down on me and they're as proud of me as I am of them.

Love & Peace,
VeeJay