Very Poor Christmases

Autobiography written by kt6550 on Friday 3, December 2010

Member Avatar
A bit of life

Overall Rating: 94.533333333333%

This writing has been rated by 3 members, resulting in a rating of 94.533333333333% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:

Spelling & Grammar:93.333333333333%
Author's Note
This autobiographical history was written several years ago in response to a colleague who had spent his entire life in wealth and affluence. He had made a silly statement on how the people of the coal regions, being poor, could not possibly enjoy the holidays. I have cleaned it up a bit and brought it up to date.

Post Comment

Please Login to Post a Comment.


    Bob, this really resonated with me. Two of my grandparents immigrated here in the 1890's. My other great-grandparents were Scotch and English immigrants.

    I was born in the Allegheny Mts of western Pa, deep in coal country. My whole family, except my father, were miners or mill workers. My father was a mill worker until WWII.

    Up until now, I didn't realize anyone thought we didn't have a happy Christmas. We must have all been fooling ourselves.
    Don, I remember, as a young boy, attending the funerals of two of my mom's uncles, Michael and John. They both died from 'Black Lung,' or 'Miner's Asthma.' Both had worked in the mines for over 20 years.

    It was said that inhaling the coal dust during an eight-hour shift was like smoking three packs of cigarettes a day.
    I also beg to differ.

    This was beautiful, kt.

    The men in my family had a tradition of ship building; many generations all working down at the local ship yards on the banks of the river Tyne.
    My Grandad died of suspected Asbestosis, from the many hazardous materials they were forced to work with in the old days.

    I can relate to the many Christmas day visits; my Dad would bundle us all up in the car and go see all my grandparents & aunts & uncles. Then the rest of the day would be spent with just us.

    Since the birth of my little girl, Christmas has regained it's magic for me. I think its a lot about innocence and how you nurture it.

    This Christmas will be the first one without my Dad. Thanks for sharing your memories, kt; they most certainly struck a chord.
    Thanks for sharing very nice.
    We have forgotten how the little things in life develop who we are. The simplest of things can mean so much even if it is learning poka. What is life and all it challenges without a time to dance?
    Wonderful, KT. I've been slowly reading past postings of writers who comment but hadn't gotten to this until Eric's comment drew my interest. This brought back so many memories. My family and upbringing was so completely different and yet so much the same. It even prompted me to write a poem -- something I almost never do unless it is required within a prose story.