Once upon a time there was a man named Jack. My first memories of him were when he'd come home from the mines, covered in coal dust and exhausted from a hard day's work.
But he was never too tired to have some time for me or the rest of his extended family. Eyes dancing and quick with a laugh or smile, he was an ever-present source of joy in my life these many years.
Though his brothers and sisters left the hills of West Virginia for jobs and to raise families, Jack stayed behind to take care of my grandma and grandpa. As a result, he never married, his sense of duty to family overriding even his own happiness.
Yet though he had no wife and kids of his own, he was surrogate parent to dozens of nieces and nephews and other generations to follow.
