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My father and brothers were coal miners.

A distant cousin sent me some genealogy report on my father's side, and it's sort of what I suspected. Coal miners for generations... four or maybe five generations.

We were all miners in our family. My father was a miner. My mother is a miner. These are miner's hands, but we were all artists, I suppose, really. But I was the first one who had the urge to express myself on paper rather than at the coalface.

When I was born, my father was a copper miner in Butte, Montana. It was a hard-core, blue-collar situation.

I come from a coal-mining, working-class background. My father was a coal miner.

My grandfather was from Aberdare. He was a coal miner who emigrated and then continued mining in Pennsylvania.

I was born and raised in the high desert of Nevada in a tiny town called Searchlight. My dad was a hard rock miner. My mom took in wash. I grew up around people of strong values - even if they rarely talked about them.

My great-grandfather was a coal miner, who worked in Pennsylvania mines when carts were pulled by mules and mines were lit by candles. Mining was very dangerous work then.

I came from a very, very small valley in the middle of South Wales. I grew up there with my father, who's a coal miner, and my mother worked in a normal factory.

I come from a tiny mining town in the rainforest in an island at the end of the world. My grandparents were illiterate.