The Mines

My great-grandfathers on my mom’s side both immigrated from northern Italy to Washington state around the turn of the 20th century. Like many immigrants before and after them, they worked dirty, dangerous, and low-paying jobs. In their cases, they worked in coal mines in Renton and Black Diamond. Although they may have had dreams of riches and the easy life before they immigrated, they soon toiled as an investment for the future of their families.

I was reminded of my Italian ancestors while having a lovely weekend away with my husband. John had arranged for this as a birthday present to me. We stayed at my brother and sister-in-law’s condo near Rosalyn, WA, in the Central Cascades. Rosalyn was a coal-mining town back when my great-grandparents were mining.

It was foggy for most of the weekend, creating an other-worldly black-and-white environment. Fog can be foreboding. I found myself, instead, to be nestled in obscurity. The world can be far too bright and more subtle beauty can be missed. John and I took a walk down an old mining road, now used as a hiking trail. It was breath-taking and my photo only hints at this.

This patch of serenity in 2017 is also the site of the worst coalmine disaster in Washington state history. It was 1892 and an explosion and fire killed 45 men. Can you imagine what that was like for a turn-of-the century mining town in rural Washington with a population of just over 1000 people? Devastating.

I think of my ancestors, like these men and their families, who were primarily new immigrants from European countries, who the hardships of the immigrant life, the Great Depression, and two world wars.

In the years of my mindfulness practice, I have gained a perspective of deepened connection between humanity. There is a thread that runs through us across distance and time.  I have been struggling with discouragement in the past few weeks. Some of it, I suspect is anniversary grief from the last presidential election compounded by the new assault of scary news each day. I am also adjusting to finishing my cardiac rehab, which was a wonderful structure of support both physical and emotional. Then there is getting to a new normal with my dad’s health and support needs.

This is not working the mines or dealing with wars or the Great Depression. But it does feel that we are adjusting to some kind of New World. And for many in our country and world, it really is working the mines, living through the Depression, and experiencing war, all at once.

My ancestors were strong, resilient people on both sides of my family. (Perhaps, one day, I will tell my father’s story.) Today, I draw on their strength and I see light.