Work, as an Ethic
It was 1973.
My car would be in the want ads in two days.
Like throwing a switch, the transmission was shot.
You said, “Well, it’s not going to fix itself.”
Off to the junkyard, for a used transmission.
Right across the street, a transmission jack at a tool rental.
Four hours and $75 later, drove like a charm.
Two days later, sold for $200.
You said, “Better than $25 for scrap, right?”
Blue collar child of the Depression.
Working full-time from the age of thirteen.
Little sense in living beyond your means.
If wanting more meant working for it, then so be it.
You taught me that, and so much more.
The optional prompt at NaPoWriMo 2017 for Day 10 of National Poetry Writing Month/Global Poetry Writing Month is to write a poem that is a portrait of someone important to you.
Image source: thetruthaboutcars.com (edited, here)