09/05/2026
🇺🇸 LABOR DAY — ITS MEANING RUNS DEEP IN THESE WEST VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS ⛏️
Here in West Virginia, Labor Day is more than the unofficial end of summer.
For us, the story of American labor was written into these mountains — in coal dust, sacrifice, courage, and blood.
Generations of West Virginians went underground before daylight and came home after dark. They worked dangerous jobs to put food on the table and provide a better life for their families. Wives kissed their husbands goodbye in the morning, children watched their fathers leave for work, and no family ever had the guarantee that the man who entered the mine would come home again.
Eventually, working people said enough.
West Virginia became the ground on which some of the most significant struggles in American labor history took place.
During the Paint Creek–Cabin Creek Strike, miners and their families endured tremendous hardship while fighting for better treatment.
In Matewan, tensions between miners seeking to organize and the forces sent to oppose them erupted into the deadly confrontation remembered as the Battle of Matewan.
Then, in 1921, thousands of miners marched through the mountains of southern West Virginia toward Blair Mountain.
They weren't marching because it was easy.
They were marching because they believed working people deserved dignity.
They believed a man shouldn't have to choose between feeding his children and speaking up about dangerous working conditions.
They believed workers deserved a voice.
At Blair Mountain, miners stood together during what became the largest armed labor uprising in American history.
But for my family, the dangers faced by West Virginia's working people aren't simply something we read about in a history book.
They're part of our family's story.
My great-grandpa, Albert DeRaimo, survived World War II. He was one of seven brothers who served during the war.
He survived a world at war and made it home to West Virginia.
But he didn't survive the mines.
On Halloween night, October 31, 1951, Albert was killed in a mine explosion in Kanawha County.
He left behind a wife, three young children, and a huge family who loved him.
One of those children was my grandma.
She was only eleven months old when her daddy died.
Eleven months old.
She would grow up knowing her father through photographs, family stories and the memories other people carried for her.
There is something especially heartbreaking about knowing that a man could survive World War II, come home to his wife and babies, and then lose his life simply trying to earn a living for them in a West Virginia coal mine.
And Albert's story wasn't unique.
Across these mountains are families with their own Alberts.
Their own fathers who didn't come home.
Their own widows who suddenly had children to raise alone.
Their own babies who grew up knowing Daddy through a photograph.
Their own empty chair at the supper table.
Their own name carved into a headstone far too soon.
That's why Labor Day means something different when you know the price working families have paid.
The protections working Americans eventually gained weren't simply handed to them.
People fought for them.
People sacrificed for them.
And some people died earning a living before they ever got to enjoy them.
West Virginians know that history especially well.
⛏️ Miners went underground.
🚂 Railroad workers connected our communities.
🌾 Farmers worked these hills and hollers.
🏭 Men and women worked our mills and factories.
Generation after generation did whatever was necessary to put food on the table and give their children something better.
And that spirit is still here.
It's in the miner pulling on his boots before sunrise.
It's in the nurse finishing a twelve-hour shift.
It's in the teacher staying late for her students.
It's in the lineman working through a storm, the truck driver crossing another state line, the tradesman wearing out another pair of boots, the farmer tending animals before daylight, and the small-business owner turning the lights on while everyone else is still asleep.
Work has always been part of the backbone of West Virginia.
So this Labor Day weekend, I remember more than a holiday.
I remember Matewan.
I remember Blair Mountain.
I remember the coal camps.
I remember the miners whose names we know — and the thousands whose names history never recorded.
And personally, I remember my great-grandpa, Albert DeRaimo.
A husband.
A father of three.
One of seven brothers who served during World War II.
A West Virginia coal miner.
A man who survived a war overseas, came home to his family, went underground to provide for them — and never came home again.
October 31, 1951.
Seventy-five years later, his family still remembers his name.
And this Labor Day, we honor him. ❤️
We honor Albert and every West Virginia worker who sacrificed their health, their bodies, their time with their families — and sometimes their lives — doing the work that built these mountains and this country.
Because if there's one thing these mountains have taught generations of West Virginians, it's this:
We know how to work.
We know how to endure.
We know how to stand together.
And we never forget where we came from — or the people who came before us.
From our family at Honey Do Farms, Happy Labor Day Weekend. 🇺🇸💙💛
Proudly West Virginian.
Proudly Appalachian.
Rooted in Appalachian traditions.
