Labor Day weekend has come and gone. There were parades, speeches and cookouts all over the United States to celebrate this important day. 
Every year on Labor Day, I think of my Dad, Thomas R. Joyce, Jr. He was a working man—he labored in the steel mills in Lackawanna, New York for well over 40 years. He started working when he was only 17. Like many young men in his era, he fudged his age in order to get hired; it was the Depression and the family needed money to survive. So he set aside his dream of a college education and went to work as a laborer in the steel mills.
Because of my father’s sacrifice, his younger brothers eventually earned their degrees—two were dentists and the other an engineer. By the time his chance came around, he had a young family to support. So my Dad continued to work in the steel mill.
Yet he never complained about the lack of opportunity, rather he was proud of his brothers and their accomplishment. He was intellectually curious until the day he died. He taught himself to play the piano, read Greek and math tomes “for fun” and corresponded with Isaac Asimov for a period of time. He loved science fiction and read voraciously. He was a professional photographer for a time. Later he pursued photography as a hobby and developed photos in a dark room he set up in our home.
He was very proud of his Irish heritage and at times, even spoke in a sort of ersatz Irish brogue.
When the first Atari computers became affordable in the 1980’s, Dad taught himself how to write computer programs—one of which he sold to the local computer store! (It kept track of their inventory.)
He was what might be called a Renaissance man—curious, intellectual and involved in the world around him.
And he was a working man—the type of American who helped make this country what it is. He was a Union activist (and proud of it) who eventually became management at “the plant.” One of my brothers went to work at the steel mill where he learned that Dad’s nickname was “The Hammer”—because he drove himself so hard. Needless to say, there were no slackers on his shift.
To me, my Dad embodies what Labor Day is about: The generations of working men and women who built this country: who made steel, cars, built homes and hospitals and schools and churches, healed the sick, and taught children to read and write—because it was the right thing to do. They didn’t necessarily become rich. But they contributed richly to the fabric of everyday life in our country.
And that is what Labor Day is really about.
Sounds like a wonderful man!
Lovely!
Hugs and kisses. I hope you remember him–he delighted in you!
This is a fine tribute to your dad, who I remember, and to our working people. Most of the dads I knew were working men. Working in the sense of making, producing or repairing something. They certainly contributed to the rich fabric of our country and were an inspiration to their children. My dad used the expression “salt of the earth” to describe the working man.
Your dad was both worker and intellectual; quite a remarkable life. Thank you.
Thanks, Linda. I was really trying to convey that thought that my Dad was a working man who produced a useful product , but remained true to himself as a person. Thanks for your comment!
Kathy,
What a great tribute to your dad. You were very lucky to be raised by a man like him.
Barb
I totally agree, Barb. He was a real gentleman who valued family first.
This was a beautiful Tribute to your Father and I am proud to know you.
Thanks, Eleanor!
Wonderful story about your father. He would be as proud of you as you are of him.
What a nice thought! He and I were very different–he was a logical thinker who loved math–which I struggled with. But he was really amazing.And I appreciated all of the things he did well–and I know that he appreciated and loved me.
You must be so very proud of your father. What a remarkable man! Now I know where you get your “brains’ and work ethics.
Mel
Thanks–he was a great guy!
Reading about your Dad reminded me of my own. He got married after returning from the Pacific in WWII, had a family, worked for P.S.E.& G., took on side jobs on the weekend, and finally went to college to fulfill his dream to become an electrical engineer. Attending NJIT in the evening, he graduated as salutatorian (probably a bit disappointed that he wasn’t #1!). What an inspiration he was to me and my two brothers. I always tried to make him proud; I’ll never forget how he jokingly commented to me after viewing my report card containing all but one A, “What happened in chemistry?” (a B+).
Yes, Kathy, we certainly were lucky! Thank you for stirring up memories!
Hi Bonnie, What a wonderful story about your Dad–we are lucky to have had such great men in our lives. Thanks!
Just got a chance to read this. I never knew about his correspondance with Issac Asimov. I never knew the Hammer story. He did so much and spoke very little about himself. Thanks I enjoyed reading this.
I’m glad that you did, Connie. He was a mysterious person, and hard to know well.But I am always grateful to have ahd such a wonderful Dad.