I grew up in Lakeland, Los Angeles.We all lived on my parents' farm.When I was 12,1 got a part-time job on a dairy farm, helping to milk cows.We milked 65 cows at 5 o'clock in the morning and again at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, seven days a week. One day before daylight, I complained to my father about having to go to milk those cows.My father said, "You know, boy, to work is a blessing." Going to college was a rare privilege   for a kid from Lakeland.My father told me if I picked something to study that I liked, I would always look forward to my work.But he also added, "Even having a job you hate is better than not having a job at all." I wanted to be a farmer, but I joined the army to help pay for college. In the late 1980s, during a visit to Bangladesh, I saw a woman with a baby on her back, breaking bricks with a hammer.I asked a Bangladesh officer why they weren't using a machine, which would have been a lot easier.He told me a machine would put that lady out of work.Breaking those bricks meant she would earn enough money to feed herself and her baby that day.Although that woman's job was bad, it was enough to keep a small family alive.It reminded me of my father's words: to work is a blessing. I don't think I'll ever quit working.I'm retired from the army, but I'm still working to help people.I'm not going to stop.I believe in my father's words.I believe in the blessing of work. How did the author probably find the milking work?
Exciting. Boring. Important. Easy