Today we celebrate the man who, with the Lord's help, makes our life of literature, music, art and nature possible~ Mr. Honey.
And we celebrate the ability to work-- the habits slowly ingraining themselves into my children: laundry, dishes, tidying up. Little by little, bit by bit, made easier by a song and a kind word.
We celebrate the work of our parents and grandparents, who sacrificed for us and raised us up to enjoy life and work for others. And the work of our Lord, which is finished and complete, lacking nothing.
A little Labor Day history. I find it interesting to note that the reason Labor Day in the U.S. is not on May 1 (as it is in some other countries) is because President Cleveland, while wanting to honor workers, did not want to strengthen the socialist movement in the United States.
And some Walt Whitman:
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics-- each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam;
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat-- the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench-- the hatter singing as he stands;
The woodcutter's song-- the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother-- or of the young wife at work-- or of the girl sewing or washing-- each singing what belongs to her and none else;
The day what belongs to the day-- at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths, their strong, melodious songs.
For more of Mr. Whitman, see the Carol of Occupations.
Here at home, Fanfare for the Common Man plays (along with other Copland favorites) and we rejoice in a day spent with Daddy. We are off to eat spareribs with the grandparents and revel in free time, as rain falls on our thirsty land.