Labor Day Conflict

I had been putting forth considerable effort in the last week in training for a new career, so I was more than little grateful yesterday with the realization that there would be a three day weekend to recharge my batteries. (I was also feeling a little smug over the timing of this mini vacation, in spite of the fact that I had little or nothing to do with it.) 


Recognizing that 'there is no such thing as a free lunch' however, I could not help but realize that there would invariably be a price to pay for the fortunate circumstance of my first paid work holiday. The bill didn't take long to show up. You see, the joy of this short furlough from my labors made me curious as to their cause (and curiosity is normally a dangerous thing). 


As with I am sure many of you out there, I had long taken the concept of a "Labor Day" weekend for granted. As kids, Labor Day traditionally marked the end of summer vacation and the beginning of school. While schools around the country can now begin a little earlier or later depending on the vagaries of state attendance requirements (and since most of those in government education camps are no longer required to work the harvest with their parents), the necessity of reducing the costs of climate control for their buildings, and the prognostications of weather guessers as to how many bad weather days will be required during the school year; most openings still closely mirror in some way this three day weekend. 


It is also the traditional weekend for the closing of outdoor swimming pools in much of the country, in spite of the fact that often there is still plenty of warm weather to follow. Like the opening of school, this was a heartfelt tragedy of youth for many of us, as swimming pools were both a source of entertainment and a summer refuge for many us. As we grew older, these sites even became educational; as we gradually began to recognize the necessity social networking (though we just called it 'hanging out with our friends' at the time) and the increasing hormonal challenges that were eventually presented by a burgeoning maturity. I had never bothered then, nor do I recollect ever being taught at the time, what it was that the actual holiday symbolized. 


Having opened this Pandora's Box however, I was now bound to perform the research (and write about it). Now according to the definitive (but sometimes questionable) source Wikipedia, Labor Day became a federal holiday in 1894, with legislation rushed through Congress a mere six days after the ending of the Pullman Strike (back when Congress didn't rush most of the legislation that it writes through). 


The idea apparently was to create a holiday as a peace offering to labor unions that had suffered mistreatment and death at the hands of the military and US Marshalls during this strike. The September date was chosen apparently, in order to prevent potential confusion with the May Day (or International Workers Day) celebrations; which not only carried overt Communist connotations, but carried the additional baggage of commemorating the violence that erupted during yet another labor strike and demonstration, the Haymarket Affair of 1886. 


The bottom line here apparently, is that the holiday that we are all currently enjoying was manufactured by the federal government as a way of distancing itself from the abuse that it had committed in the name of, and as a small punishment to the 'big business' interests that it far too often finds itself under the thumb of. It was likewise seen as a sop to the labor movement in this country that it alternately and frequently finds itself in the same position with. (This is the kind of distasteful and tainted process that makes Hallmark's avaricious efforts at holiday creation seem almost saintly by comparison.) 


Now I have made no secret of my opinions of the labor movement in the past, but one cannot help but concede at least a modicum of sympathy to union labor in this case. While I am sure that not all of the actions perpetrated by striking workers were laudable and that a close examination of the facts at the time would find plenty of fodder for recriminations on both sides, one cannot help but be sympathetic (and even to admire) those willing to be injured or even killed while standing up for their beliefs and what they felt were their rights. 


Much like the contention from which it was born, I cannot help but feel conflicting emotions as I enjoy the rest and respite provided as a result of this Labor Day holiday. While certainly appreciative of the short breather provided by this holiday, I am disdainful of the concept of celebrating organized labor at a time when we force two of what are considered this country's most famous presidents to share a holiday. While I am more than willing to accept the temporary ease provided to write this piece, I must admit to feelings of remorse at its source. 


Perhaps I should instead acknowledge the guilty pleasure of an unasked for gift from the hands of my oft-stated enemy, accept it as a form of absolution for the embarrassed confession that I make here, and simply enjoy what promises to be a gorgeous weekend here in the Kansas City area. Then again, that might be doing too much work ...

Losing Neverland

In my quest to entertain myself while avoiding in any way watching the political conventions, I found that I had inadvertently rediscovered something far more important than the next person who sits in the White House. 

You see, people come and go in the job of President of the United States, and that was how it was envisioned by the Founding Fathers. Just over 40 men have served in the position, and we have had just about every level of intelligence (or lack of it) possible. We have also been exposed to every noble virtue and every human foible existing in the human condition. So no matter what we end up with at the end of the election this year, we will survive it. 

What I discovered instead while ignoring the nonsense of the conventions was far more important. It was a bit of the sense of magic and wonder, the sense of the ridiculous that allows us in fact to survive such momentous events and the people participating in them. 

Almost without conscious effort, I found myself drawn to "Young Frankenstein" and "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" on DVD. For those of you never exposed to these two movies by the way (possibly because you live under a rock on another planet), I cannot think of two movies that I would recommend more. If there are any films more ridiculous or just flat out funny, I have yet to find them. 

I think perhaps that they opened me up to a little known Johnny Depp movie from 2004 that I finally got around to viewing in its entirety, "Finding Neverland". As the title implies the story has to do with the tale of James Barrie, creator of the character, play, and novel "Peter Pan". It lets us in on how he discovered in this story, the secret of eternal youth. Not in the physical sense of course, but in the truest sense possible, a spirit of youth. 

Far too many of us lose our grasp on the spirit that allows us to imagine what could be, to fantasize about what might be, and to see the world for what we "want" it to be. We get far too wrapped up in our mundane existence and the things that we believe are all but earth shattering to retain the spirit that so inspired us in our youth. In creating the world of Peter Pan, James Barrie told all of us that such spirit can be eternal for any of us; but that the "ticking crocodile" of time is always at our heels, and the villains in our lives (like Captain Hook) are always there to challenge our ability to remain true to that spirit. 

Now that the conventions are over and the parties hope to whip us into a frenzy over their respective choices, I hope that I will be able to maintain a sense of perspective on the nonsense that follows. I hope that I won't soon forget the much more important lesson that I relearned almost by accident during this period. I hope that I can continue to remain true to the spirit of Peter Pan, even while attempting to deal effectively with every one of the mundane and serious aspects of my everyday life. I hope that the wonder and imagination of youth continue to remain a part of my life as the rest of me advances through the coming years. I hope with all of my heart that I never lose the spirit of Neverland. 

I find myself hoping that at the end of my days, that it should be said of me that I had the one described by one of the characters in the film at the debut of the play, Peter Pan. In describing her recently departed husband, Mrs. Stone commented, "He was really just a boy himself you know ... to the very end." I wish the same for each of you ...