My father died a few years ago at age 89. Timber logger, driving a cat at a work site, took a tumble down a hill.
Sad to lose him, of course, but it was inevitable that he would have worked until he died. Probably worked as a logger for nearly 75 years.
I remember when I was a kid, he came home with a broken leg, splinted by some coworkers. He insisted on having dinner with us before going to the emergency room and getting a cast.
I have a strong work ethic, but I still feel like an irresponsible juvenile when I compare myself to my dad.
