Everyone's father worked in the mines or on farms where we came from. Everyone's mother was primarily a homemaker. But we shared the same dreams for the future. We expected to be like our parents, conform to our gender roles, get married and raise big families. We didn't expect to move to cities, forge new paths, or upset traditional patterns.
But something happened. The world changed. The mines closed. The farms were sold. Our families scattered to the winds, pursued college degrees. We moved away. We discovered new worlds. We became, in one generation, remarkably different people from those who brought us into being.
When the family converges for gatherings we are not sure we really know each other. Our politics are all over the map. So are our economic perches, domestic arrangements, values and goals. Not all of us go to church, or to the same church. Should we have all stayed closer to our humbler origins?
In reality, it seems this exposure to other world views has made us more tolerant. We view other folks with respect. We gather in sensitive, new ways. We share more with informed love, generosity, openness and forgiveness. We find that we are more united than appearances would suggest. Actually, we act like Pentecost people, who spoke different languages but all understood each other. I am so proud to be a member of this family. Happy Pentecost Sunday. Love, Aunt Joyce
One of the boys in this photo could be John Durosko.
John was 12 years old when he and other boys pushed coal cars out of the mines.
