Hand on the Plow

This is a repost of a piece I wrote in 2020 at the onset of the Covid pandemic when we were unsure of what it was, how bad it was, and when it would end. I referenced the advice of a coworker from my younger days and how her words have stayed with me. I just found out she passed away and was reminded again of her and her words of encouragement.

Edmonia R. Wade 1940-1923

Back in the 1980s she and I spent many days over several years together at our retail job. When I left the position we said we’d always stay in touch. We didn’t. That’s just how it works. Although I never saw her again I thought of her often, laughed remembering her sense of humor, and never forgot her advice.

Hand on the Plow 

I watched the morning news but turned away as hopelessness washed over me while they reported infection rates and death tolls. Isolation was helping to end this nightmare, so they said, but for many of us it seemed an exercise in futility. When a reporter stressed the importance of perseverance even when we doubted, an old memory crossed my mind of a time when I was unsure of my own next steps.

“Nope.” Ms. Wade shook her head. “Here’s what you’re going to do.” She put her arm around my shoulder. “Keep your hand on the plow and hold on.”

I understood the metaphor. Don’t dismay, was her message. I should simply continue doing what I’d been doing.

It was the 1980s and I was a twenty-something kid working a part-time retail job. Ms. Wade was an older African-American woman who had worked there full-time for a number of years. She showed me around, trained me, and a couple weeks into the job was already my mentor and friend.

New in my position, one day I rang up a sale incorrectly. Technology not being then what it is today, that wasn’t hard to do. My mistake, which was realized later, cost the store less than twenty dollars but that was serious stuff. For an entire tense week I came to work expecting to be fired. During that time, Ms. Wade listened to my worries but smiled and encouraged me to keep my chin up and just keep doing what I was doing. I thought maybe I should quit.

“You can’t quit when things seem hopeless. That’s exactly when you don’t quit.” Ms. Wade looked at me and put her hand on her hip. “Just hold on, I told you. Keep your hand on the plow and hold on.”

I continued whining, bothered by the embarrassing thought of having to explain to everyone why I’d been fired. Not to mention I’d have to find another job. The situation seemed gloomy and I told her so. Ms. Wade patiently repeated that I should keep going even through confusion and fear. It was ok that the outcome wasn’t known. The point was to push on and take it day by day. So that’s what I did.

A few days later I was informed, unceremoniously, that personnel chalked up my mistake to inexperience and a learning curve. Because I’d continued working and demonstrated determination, they let it go. Wow! Just as Ms. Wade said, the best thing to do was carry on in spite of overwhelming bouts of apprehension.

What a valuable lesson that good woman taught me.

I turned back to the morning news. More reports of infections and deaths. So much uncertainty. When will this end? What can any of us do? I’m not the only person experiencing moments of confusion and worry. The entire world is swallowed up by these feelings as we wait for a resolution.

For now, our responsibilities are to follow advice and keep at it even during moments of doubt. Especially during moments of doubt. A solution will eventually come. In the meantime I can’t offer an answer to this mess, but thanks to Ms. Wade I can offer a bit of advice.

Keep your hand on the plow and hold on.

Stuart M. Perkins