All I know is this. My love of hard work came at the age of ten from my life on a VT farm. My jobs were to help to cook, feed and herd the cows, sell corn by the side of the road, rake hay, and pile wood. My love of eggs, all ways, gave me a new job one day to go to the shed and get the eggs that the hens had laid that day.
As you may know, hens peck at you when you try to take the eggs. I was full of fear to do this task. It took me over an hour. It was not easy. I did my best, but I got only the eggs that felt safe for me to take, less than half of all of them. My Dad was calm and sent me back to get ALL of the eggs. He said, “Use your left arm to push the hens back a bit, and then be fast to grab the eggs.”
It felt good to take ALL the eggs to my Dad, but I took even the fake ones used to get the hens to sit on the nest to lay the eggs. And yes, my Dad then sent me off to put each fake egg back into the nest. He felt that “you must take each job all the way.” Soon I got all the real eggs each day with no fear and with joy. I ate lots of eggs as I grew up.
I know that this task was my start to try to face hard work with love and care in all my life. I was glad that my Dad made me a “true VT girl” with a love of hard work.
My Dad died when I was 16, and even now at age 82 and as a long time “city girl,” I can hear him tell me, “You must take each job all the way.” And at this time of lock down, if need be, I will go all the way and cook eggs at each meal each day each week, with true joy.