Labor Day's Love is Not Lost

Dear Diary,

Today is the first Monday of September: Labor Day. 

Yup, it has crept up on us already!

For over 100 years, America has been celebrating Labor Day.  This blogger is grateful for a day off of the normal Monday routine. 

Poor Monday; such a hated day of the week.

I dare say that if all American adults were asked for the origin of Labor Day, the majority wouldn't know, and I would be guilty-as-charged.  I would have said that it was a result of a law passed in the '50s to honor America's laborers by giving them:  a day off; an excuse to shop really great deals at local retailers; a reason to pig out at backyard bar-b-ques.

I wouldn't have been completely wrong.  According to the US Dept. of Labor, the holiday was nationalized by Congress in 1894 and

"is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country."
 

On such a celebratory day, I don't want to dwell on the feeling I get from today's government and the divisiveness it propagates for class and labor divisions.  It seems that plenty of bitter union leaders and minimum-wage earners get all the press coverage these days.  The cynicism can be seen in cartoons such as this: 

I am happy that we have workers in all classes, and that America allows for the freedom to better ourselves in our work.

So, now that I am a little bit smarter for it, I am happy to celebrate Labor Day in honor of America's workers.

Bring on the food, retail savings, and subsequent four-day workweek!

LJ

What Were They Thinking?

Dear Diary,

It is mid-summer.  The heat has kicked in. 
Even the dog abbreviates his beloved pastime of barking at the lawn mower to find quiet rest in the shade.

It is time to look forward to my vacation, the timing of which will mark summer's end and the beginning of a new school and work year.

In the midst of planning this getaway, I envision sweet time spent with the family:  no homework, no practices, no distractions, no work.
Period. 
The hardest job on this trip will be to decide where to eat our next meal.

That said, last week, I heard the most appalling, shocking, and yet so laughable, advertisement on the radio.  Really.  I thought it was a farce at first.

It was a dialogue between a husband and a wife who were on vacation, promoting an IT (information technology) networking product which "keeps you connected to your work wherever you go."  [It is unfortunate I can't find a link to the ad itself.]

The advertisers decided that using a vacation setting with the wife and kids was a great way to promote this technology.

The jovial wife is so happy her hard-working husband can stay connected to his work, even while blowing up the kids' water toys, and during their additional day-cruise.

I realize that, here in the 21st century, the Internet has created a "smaller" world, and is creating workaholics nationwide. But----

Who markets their products to disrupt perhaps the most sacred of family traditions? 
The time when wives most nag their husbands to get off their phones and off their laptops!  (And so as not to be sexist, here, perhaps husbands do some nagging too?  Nah.)

I have a husband who needs to be connected to his work, who travels worldwide, and needs to be reachable at all hours of the day.  So I understand a product like this can be useful. But NOT during vacation. 
No way.
Nuh-uh.

As I get reservations made and itineraries set up for my little family trip, I find this ad quite laughable. 

Yet somehow I'm not laughing,
LJ

His Story - My Story

Dear Diary,

Recently I read an article about the deeds of a tattoo artist.

I never thought it would put a tear in my eye.

The reasons for my emotions are two-fold. 
     #1-- His story is a cool one. 
     #2 --I want to have a story like that.

His Story
You wouldn't know it by looking at him but tattoo artist Chris Baker, a well-inked, tough-looking dude ya wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, actually has a heart for the less fortunate.

A year ago he had an idea: to cover or remove the branding tattoos of former gang members and sex trafficking victims at no charge.  A year since, his idea was so well-received he was invited to attend the US State Department's international meeting on Trafficking Persons.  His idea, coming from a talent he already has, and from a heart that reflects his love of God, has grown bigger than anything he thought possible, and has resulted in his founding of a ministry called Ink 180.

My Story
Chris and I share a love for Jesus and a desire to help the less fortunate.  But that is where the similarities end.  He and I don't share the same talent.  It has taken me decades to figure out what mine are, and I still only have general ideas.  I feel like a "jack of all trades but master of none." 

When I read a success story like this one, my emotions are at play because Chris embodies (tats and all) an ideal I want to live up to:
An everyday gal using her resources and talents she already owns, to share her blessings and somehow provide a better life to others in the name of Jesus.

Don't get me wrong.  I am not going around searching for the meaning of life. 
I like what I do, and I know it is worthwhile. 
And my ministry to my family is foremost and has been full of successes and blessings indeed.
But reading stories like Chris's gives me an itch.  A desire that there is more I could or should be doing.

I believe the most golden ideas are simple ones; ones that use the resources and talents already at hand, like Chris did. 

It is a special person, indeed, that must move mountains to get the job done.  That person I will never become.

Which is why I love reading about the everyday guy or gal who whispers an idea in his basement, only for it to grow into a voluminous shout to the persons who matter.

Idealistically yours,
LJ

Life in the Twilight Zone

Dear Diary,

The last two times I turned on the TV, something oddly coincidental happened.  Odd, because they were unexpected and unusual events, and coincidental, because they happened while I was watching a show that directly reflected, or foreshadowed, the incident.  Let me explain.

The first coincidence happened yesterday while hangin' with my two teens and a friend who brought over her collection of Alfred Hitchcock.  We adults decided it was time to introduce the girls to this classic, suspenseful director.  Rather than start with his widely known film, "Psycho," we decided to ease into the genre with "The Birds." 

About half way through the feature, there was a knock at my front door.  It was a late matinee so it was still daylight.  I opened the door to my neighbor, who asked, "Are you missing a white parakeet?" 

"Can I borrow your wheelbarrow?" is really the question I would have expected. 
Or "Can I have my power sprayer back?" 

But never, "Are you missing a white parakeet?"

So we paused the movie, with its murderous, pecking flocks of seagulls and crows, in order for me to investigate my neighbor's parakeet find, sitting atop his roof.  It was pretty-- white with blue breast -- but it wasn't going to be caught.  It flew to a nearby tree, looking down on us with suspicion and curiosity (Yes, truly! I have been a parakeet owner for eight years, I know their looks!) 

I shared with our neighbor the irony of watching "Birds" at that moment. 
It was kinda creepy, actually.

Fast forward to this morning.  I had the luxury of few hours to myself. This was ME time!  But I chose to do something real exciting like cleaning and picking up the weekend debris.  So I treated myself to a little TV time while I worked; you know, to instill some entertaining drivel into my dreary chores.

I turned on "Let's Make a Deal," the show where Wayne Brady tells a lucky contestant he can have what is in The Box....or behind Curtain Number 1! 

While washing the dishes and watching the negotiations for the cash-in-hand or the envelope marked "Volcano," I got a phone call. 

It was from my current employer.
Telling me my past position was no longer available.
Telling me I could take this other job she proceeded to describe.

Or I could turn it down.
And take all the risks associated with turning down the only job offer I have.

The cash in hand.
Or the curtain.
That is my choice.

That is irony.

So while I believe that TV reflects life, I have to look at these back-to-back, coincidental "life-reflecting-TV" moments as anomalies.  And I will be praying that it will become clear which curtain to choose.

But at the risk of sounding superstitious, I will be really careful of the TV program I choose to watch next. 

Any suggestions?

LJ