Today, I watched a news story with an update on the situation involving the trapped Chilean miners. They've been trapped underground for months now. While food and necessities have been delivered to them, the task of bringing them to the surface has not been an easy one. It's been quite an operation, one in which NASA has been involved, but they will begin the first attempt to bring them up early next week.
This story sparked a memory from my childhood. While I currently live in Winnipeg, I haven't always lived here. I was actually born & raised in a small mining community in northern Manitoba. In the '80's, there were many accidents that claimed men's lives. Being the small town it was, I knew every single one of these men, whether our families were close or not. In Snow Lake, there were no strangers.
Here's the memory: February 1985. I was in grade 5. That morning, I was in French class. My mom was teaching us that day (she was a substitute teacher). Believe me when I say this has a bit of significance. So we're in class, when suddenly we hear a loud scream. The kind you hear in movies, when somebody gets bad news. My mom went out in the hallway to find out what was going on. When she came back in the room, she had her hand on her chest and tears in her eyes. My mom was a stoic woman. She rarely showed emotion. So I knew it was bad. That's when she told us of a man who was killed in a mining accident that morning. The scream came from his daughter, who was in grade 7 or 8.
The man who was killed, Mr. E., lived down the street from our family. His son grew up with my oldest brothers. The families were somewhat close.
This day was a year minus one day after the death of his wife, the girl's mother. This is where the significance of my mother's presence comes in. My mom was 15 when her mom passed away. She was the youngest in her family, with 2 older brothers. As the only girl, this event led to a silent role she carried for the rest of her life. She always had room in her heart for girls who lost their mothers. So for that year less a day, she kept a watchful eye on K.
Our class was dismissed soon after. She quickly went to K, to offer what she could.
The scream, the crying, was the last we saw or heard of K. Her older brother had already left home, so she was taken to live with family elsewhere.
Of all the men lost, this is the one that touches my heart when I remember it. It was around this time that this mining company started to work on their safety measures, and become more diligent with following rules and regulations. I think for the last 25 years, they have lost less miners in work related accidents, than they did in that 5 year span in the 80's. The mine has won a number of safety awards and competitions.
While watching the story of the Chilean miners, I appreciate most the comaraderie of these men, as well as their families and friends who have been waiting to see their men again. I truly hope all of the men are saved, that the rescue is successful, and that these men are able to recover, with time and help.
This story sparked a memory from my childhood. While I currently live in Winnipeg, I haven't always lived here. I was actually born & raised in a small mining community in northern Manitoba. In the '80's, there were many accidents that claimed men's lives. Being the small town it was, I knew every single one of these men, whether our families were close or not. In Snow Lake, there were no strangers.
Here's the memory: February 1985. I was in grade 5. That morning, I was in French class. My mom was teaching us that day (she was a substitute teacher). Believe me when I say this has a bit of significance. So we're in class, when suddenly we hear a loud scream. The kind you hear in movies, when somebody gets bad news. My mom went out in the hallway to find out what was going on. When she came back in the room, she had her hand on her chest and tears in her eyes. My mom was a stoic woman. She rarely showed emotion. So I knew it was bad. That's when she told us of a man who was killed in a mining accident that morning. The scream came from his daughter, who was in grade 7 or 8.
The man who was killed, Mr. E., lived down the street from our family. His son grew up with my oldest brothers. The families were somewhat close.
This day was a year minus one day after the death of his wife, the girl's mother. This is where the significance of my mother's presence comes in. My mom was 15 when her mom passed away. She was the youngest in her family, with 2 older brothers. As the only girl, this event led to a silent role she carried for the rest of her life. She always had room in her heart for girls who lost their mothers. So for that year less a day, she kept a watchful eye on K.
Our class was dismissed soon after. She quickly went to K, to offer what she could.
The scream, the crying, was the last we saw or heard of K. Her older brother had already left home, so she was taken to live with family elsewhere.
Of all the men lost, this is the one that touches my heart when I remember it. It was around this time that this mining company started to work on their safety measures, and become more diligent with following rules and regulations. I think for the last 25 years, they have lost less miners in work related accidents, than they did in that 5 year span in the 80's. The mine has won a number of safety awards and competitions.
While watching the story of the Chilean miners, I appreciate most the comaraderie of these men, as well as their families and friends who have been waiting to see their men again. I truly hope all of the men are saved, that the rescue is successful, and that these men are able to recover, with time and help.
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