Labor Day 2007. One of my students actually asked me, "What is Labor Day all about?"
That should put a dent in recent chirpings about the return of unions. I don't think so. To these kids, labor unions are for coal miners and any auto workers still manning assembly lines, even if next to robots.
Is Jerry Lewis still manning the telethon?
I refuse to have t.v. in the house, so I miss these little cultural moments.
A word about my digression into the Thursday Thirteen. Members of my writing group want to promote books and thus schmoozed me into their club. I didn't take the whole exercise too seriously. And I might have jumped into TMIville. Not sure I can sustain the silliness into the autumn. Autumn moves me to serious writing. Well, autumn should move me into serious something. Apple pies and pumpkins; clearing out the garden; finally starting that compost pit.
But, I don't write serious fiction. That's not what I meant. I play with crafty dialogue and yearn to create fictional heroines who are quite able to crack lines akin to Rosalind Russell's in His Girl Friday. Singlehandedly, I plan to bring back the forties -- the movies, not real life. I've sort of become used to open heart surgery, computers, and frost free refrigerators. I like my men equal and my coffee with cream, and I enjoy a good backless gown when I'm thin.
However, I'm still wondering about unions and what they can do for the little person. I'm hoping that we get smart about wages, safety, and health care. I'd much rather spend the wealth on living wages and health insurance for all workers than spending all those billions on a war we had no business to start in the first place. But that's another story.