I think work is inherently valuable, and I think its value needs to be taught early in life, like many things. We learn better when we’re younger. Those lessons stick with us, become more of who we are. I’m pleased when I see young people in their teens and 20s working hard and being responsible. It’s refreshing.
My father taught me the value of work at an early age by having me chip in with chores and seeing him work hard. He had a full-time job and various other “side jobs” to pay the bills. I helped with our property maintenance by cutting the grass, cleaning our family car, etc. I think that was a very common experience in the ’60s and ’70s.
This past Labor Day weekend, virtually two days before, I had planned a big, outdoor barbecue party in the yard and invited about 25 people. I’m Italian, and we like lots of company. We love to spend time with our friends and family, and that usually means a party of sorts or at least lots of food, great conversation and fun. It had been a long time since I had one at the house, and it was an itch I needed to scratch. My 11-year-old daughter, Olivia, is like me in that respect so she was filled with excitement and anticipation. But I had to make it an indoor thing because the weather threatened unpleasantness ”“ thunderstorms and rain. We also reduced the number of guests to just three of Olivia’s friends and their families.
Of course, having a party requires a great deal of work, and I needed some help. My mother lives with us, but she is older and not well, so she isn’t able to help with those kinds of things. However, she’s great when it comes to picking up or dropping off Olivia from camp or school. So it was to fall to my darling daughter to pitch in. Now, she’s a great kid, virtually no trouble at all. She’s lively and fun, and I can’t imagine loving a child more. But when it comes to helping out around the house, she’s a bit like I was ”“ like I think most kids were and are: She doesn’t like to do it and will avoid it if at all possible.
The thing is, I am not at all like my father was. Helping out during my childhood was not a request or option. She spends her free time reading, playing computer games and video-chatting with her friends. However, she was very helpful preparing for the party. She cleaned up all her things around the house. She washed all the potatoes ”“ and there were a lot of them ”“ for the potato salad. She even peeled the garlic without an argument, and considering she finds the odor “unpleasant” (she gets that from her mother, who is not Italian), I was very pleased. This was the next step in her evolution of developing a strong work ethic, an idea in which I hold great value, as does my entire family.
A couple of years ago, when I was working in Bath, I took her to work a few times when we were having daycare issues, and after a visit to the local candy store she ended up working there the rest of the day. I’m friendly with the owners and they fell in love with her immediately and thought it would be fun to have her work there and be a good opportunity for her to learn the value of work. When I picked her up at the end of the day, they said she had been an extraordinary worker, virtually the best they ever had, and they would be thrilled if she would come back any time.
She was paid in candy, which her mother and I dole out in small portions. I learned that my daughter, who I thought was a bit lazy, actually just needed the right motivation. She has been back there a few times since, and they always appreciate having such a hard worker on staff, even if only for a few hours. I was very proud then, as I am today, when she stepped up and provided so much help preparing for the party. I don’t know when I developed a love affair with work, but I do find it inherently valuable, celebrated it this past weekend, and am most pleased that my daughter is walking down a similar path so early in her life.
Thanks for reading and have a wicked awesome week!
— Bruce M. Hardina is the publisher of the Journal Tribune, a business and marketing consultant, singer/songwriter, philosopher, student of life and the human experience, columnist, entrepreneur, loving father, husband, son, brother, neighbor and friend. To comment on his musings, email bhardina@journaltribune.com or mail a note to Journal Tribune, Attn: Bruce Hardina, 457 Alfred St., Biddeford, ME 04005.
Comments are not available on this story.
Send questions/comments to the editors.
