Hard rock and placer miners are well represented in my ancestry. It seems that many of the men in our family were close friends with precious minerals however small the quantity.
They spent fairly large portions of their younger lives toiling in the hard life of a miner and like most others in that occupations, had little to show for their labors other than minimally keeping food on the table and clothing on the backs of their families.
I suppose the trait emerged in me in another application. My father told me to stay out of mines and off of power poles but to rather use the stuff between my ears to make my way through life. I took his advice and avoided those to occupations but the dark of a mine is well represented by my office with its blinds drawn so I can better see the monitors that surround me.
Yes, I’m a modern day miner, although the gold I seek is digital and I don’t need to carry an emergency oxygen mask on my belt. I do carry a repair kit in the form of thumb drives packed with utilities and a well stocked tool kit in the form of a certain model Leatherman tool (yes on my belt).
Like my ancestors, I participated in a ‘gold rush’, although my foray into the frontier was in the form of computer training long before most of the readers of this post were born.
Today, the ‘gold’ that I seek mostly pertains to ancestral information with a low level never ending dose of digital training and refresher classes to keep my skills at a functional level. The detritus associated with miners is exhibited in the form of computer carcasses, parts, pieces and a formidable array of attachments . All are as well used and abused as my ancestors gold mining pans and camp kits.
Mining. It must be in the genes. I suspect that it has exhibited itself in my any of your lives as well.