My father ran a corner drug store where he worked night and day, seven days a week, until he died of a stroke. He literally worked himself to death.

Drill instructors worked seven days a week, fifteen to seventeen hours a day in many cases, with no time off in between platoons.

While in my late teens and in my 20s, I worked seven days a week, 20 hours a day. I worked my tail off.

This week was the first anniversary of the death of my father and I had long promised my mother we would spend these difficult days for her together in California.

My dad was a telegraph operator for the Cotton Belt Railroad. He worked seven nights a week from 4 until midnight, no vacation.

When I work fourteen hours a day, seven days a week, I get lucky.