It’s a Dirty Job, and You Rock for Doing It

My dad is a complicated man that I don’t write about much, in part because it takes a lifetime to figure out our relationship with our family, and in part to respect his privacy. However, I know one thing. My dad works. He works long. He works hard. And working and providing is his means of showing love and commitment to a family.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has worked what’s most often called a blue collar job: as a machinist at a factory. He works 12 hour shifts, and is on his feet the majority of that time. He looks at work as  a necessary part of life, where enjoyment is not a requirement. For my dad, work has always been borne out of necessity and social and familial obligations. And without people doing jobs like his, our factories could not run, and some of…