I first reflected on the relative luxury of my profession about nine years ago. One day, while still in Scottsdale, I was driving back from lunch during the peak of July. Across the street from our office, a few dozen construction workers were laboring on a four-story medical complex being erected. They were moving across the exposed steel skeleton of the structure in what was probably 110-degree heat...mirage vapors wafting off the asphalt. I could only imagine the blast-furnace intensity of the girders boiling up through their steel-toed boots...the oppressive, brain-cooking sun permeating their hard hats.
I returned to my desk with smoothie in hand, setting down to craft a magazine ad with research, inspiration and a healthy dose of constructive daydreaming. They endeavored with nail guns and concrete mixers. My toolbox was filled with Photoshop and Quark.
That day, I thanked the Powers That Be for my good fortune. Not that I was/am any better than those who make a living with muscle and sweat. Far from it. Just a different experience that, even though it can be a deadline-straining, gut-wrenching assault at times, doesn't pose the physical threat that hard labor does. If I fall during my day, it's out of my chair, not from a fifth story. If I hurt anything, it's my mouse wrist and not my neck, back or spleen.
I was thankful that day. And I was reminded recently to still be thankful. As often as I am prone to bemoaning late hours and daily stress, I will never be trapped in my office in the dark, the smell of toxic fumes filling my sinuses, carbon monoxide levels tunneling my vision as I mumble incoherent prayers to see my children again while my limbs slowly go numb. My family will never have to huddle together in the rain, awaiting rescue crews to retrieve my body from some narrow, muck-filled crevice beneath my desk. And I will never get black lung from writing too much copy.
My heart goes out to the coal miners and their families who live with that humbling threat every day...and profoundly during the past month. All of us should heed the wakeup call that there are people who put more than just their welfare on the line when they punch the clock. Soldiers do...their sacrifice is tacitly understood by all. But there are so many others who thanklessly battle on different frontlines – lines drawn deep beneath muddy West Virginia mountains or balanced precariously atop wind-blown high rises.
To all the miners, construction workers, powerline crews, snowplow drivers (not to mention police, fire and rescue professionals)...this point and click is for you.
