Boys, Work and War

I’ve known this man since I was a kid. It’s a great blog and has some very good things to say. John is a wonderful storyteller.


I never saw my father work. Well, I saw him DO some work, but never at the place called Work. He left the house at 6AM to go to work, and was rarely home before 6PM. He went to Work. What the hell does that mean? Work was a place to me. Until I was 10, I had no idea where it was. He had something to do with making jet engines at General Electric in Cincinnati. It was the 1950’s when I first became aware that you have to go to a place called Work in order to make money to eat. You see, that’s about the time I learned that money doesn’t grow on trees. You have to go to Work to get some.

I grew up with a sense of entitlement, but I don’t like to admit it. I went to school, went out to play, and…

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About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
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