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.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
My father and brothers were coal miners.
I come from a coal-mining, working-class background. My father was a coal miner.
Then there was the whole concept of coal mining, which is a culture unto itself, the most dangerous occupation in the world, and which draws and develops a certain kind of man.
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.
Growing up, I didn't know anybody who didn't have a miner in the family. Both of my grandfathers were miners.
Mining is a dangerous profession. There's no way to make a mine completely safe: These are the words owners have always used to excuse needless deaths and the words miners use to prepare for them.
When I was born, my father was a copper miner in Butte, Montana. It was a hard-core, blue-collar situation.
Every coal miner I talked to had, in his history, at least one story of a cave-in. 'Yeah, he got covered up,' is a way coal miners refer to fathers and brothers and sons who got buried alive.
My grandfather was from Aberdare. He was a coal miner who emigrated and then continued mining in Pennsylvania.
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.
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