Working through Labor Day.

Happy Labor Day! I'll be working all day, thanks very much. Someone has to keep the engine of commerce running. YOU'RE WELCOME.

Alas, the life of the freelancer. Assignments come in at random and deadlines are deadly. But it's all right; I had no social plans for today. Working on a holiday never bothered me unless I was missing a party I wanted to attend, and as I've gotten older, I have found precious few events that meet that particular criterion. 

Pardon me if I've told this story in this space before: When I was in college I worked for a time as a general dogsbody for a small midtown office that did a lot of mailings, and I mean a lot. They did not observe Columbus Day, but the post office certainly did. However, in Manhattan at least, the post office itself did not sleep; its windows were shuttered and its postmen were at rest, but the big sorting offices were still open. If a company wanted to get a dozen sacks of mail into the system that day, they just had to bring it to the loading dock and it would be cheerfully accepted. All they needed were the sacks, a big dolly, and a dopey college student who needed the money.

Well, if you've ever done this kind of work, you discover quickly that getting the four wheels of a dolly to play nicely together is like getting the band into the studio after the third album flopped and the tour disintegrated into fistfights. You also discover that, as smooth as they look in most places, the sidewalks of Manhattan are in fact pitted and furrowed as a centenarian's face; that the smallest amounts of litter can jam a little wheel; that the curb cuts may be and should be perfect for wheelchairs but are not wide enough for dollies; that mailbags love nothing better than to swing freely from the handle to which you tied them and drag on the ground or at least throw off the dolly's forward impetus; that the sewer grates are sinking everywhere and love nothing better than to reach out and take a bite out of a small and errant wheel. I don't remember how many blocks it was, but it was too many. Still, I got there, and delivered the goods, and the dolly and I made it back safely. 

So it's not a bad thing to work on the holidays. But it's a lot easier to do it at home, doing research on your laptop for pay, than to be shoving an uncooperative dolly through the pitiless streets of the naked city to deliver pamphlets to be mailed, most of which would be thrown away upon reception.

I still maintain that everyone in college should have a job like that. Or at food service or delivery, or something else low-paying and unexpectedly challenging. It teaches humility, but also self-respect, which is far better than ballooned-up pride that contains a deep sense of inadequacy. Plus, you might get a funny story out it. 

You can pick your friends…

… but can you picnic?

Maybe where you live, you can barely enjoy the five remaining weeks of summer because of all the wailing and gnashing of teeth among the youths who have already started school. It doesn't start here until the day after Labor Day, but the school supplies have been featured prominently at stores since July 5, so the misery is growing here as well. 

Nevertheless, let us not forget that we're only halfway through August and, despite the Halloween candy in the stores, there's still a lot of summer left. In the socialization department, there's still Labor Day weekend, which means another shot at having a decent backyard party. Maybe it won't rain this time. Maybe Uncle Al won't throw a fist at Uncle Lou this time. Maybe that kid with the purple hair with the snot ring will stay home instead of moping in the corner and grumbling about Trump. Who knows? It could be the party of the year. 

And I am here to offer you a terrific idea for your gathering. 

Barbecues usually have great food, but unlike indoor holiday dining, there's no centerpiece item to make the guests ooh and ah, like a beautiful ham or prime rib or Norman Rockwell-esque turkey, or, for that purple-hair kid, lump of tofu. Well, there wasn't -- until now! Simply follow this recipe for a real show-stopping fruit salad.

Take two (2) blueberries. Cut a slit in two (2) strawberries and insert a blueberry into each. Take two (2) ripe peaches and cut into them halfway; work the pits out. Insert strawberries. Take two (2) mangoes and do the same thing to them, inserting the peaches when the pits are out. Take two (2) honeydew melons; cut in half and scoop out the seeds. Put a mango in each and reassemble melons. Take one (1) very large watermelon. Cut in half lengthwise and scoop out enough to fit the honeydews inside. Put watermelon back together and serve on enormous platter. 

Ladies and gentlemen, you have just presented the Wahonmangpeastrawblu. Slice firmly but carefully and serve in buckets.

I'd much prefer this to a Turducken. Does anyone really like those? They have "turd" right in the name.

So make sure to sling up a Wahonmangpeastrawblu at your Labor Day party! It will get the guests talking, that's for sure. ("What the hell is wrong with Jeff?") You may even help them feel glad that summer is coming to an end. And isn't that what it's all about? Helping?

Markers.

So it's back to school time, even if, like me, you live in a place where public schools won't reopen until after Labor Day. After all, college students have to get shipped off. Kids have to load up with the stuff the school says they will need. And remember, Labor Day is really early this year -- September 2. That means very little September will be available here in New York for kids to enjoy school-free. Then there will be pencils. There will be books. And yes indeed, there will be teacher's dirty looks. 

I used to love going with my mom to get school supplies, even though I dreaded the start of school. But I swear, everyone has gotten more grumpy since Dri Mark stopped selling these. 

I was an inveterate doodler in school -- actually, still am -- and when I saw that picture I got to wondering what happened to Dri Mark since my school days. The company is still around, and while they don't sell colored markers on the store shelves anymore, they do custom orders for these kinds of supplies. But that's not where they get the bulk of their money. If you don't know what Dri Mark makes now, you probably wouldn't guess. 

So I'll just tell you. In 1991, "Dri Mark became the original patent holder and only domestic manufacturer of the iconic Counterfeit Detector Pen. Over the next 25 years, the Detector Pen rose to be the highest-selling, and most success­ful counterfeit detection product in the industry." That's right -- most of the Long Island, New York-based company's dough comes from markers and other products that detect and expose counterfeit money. I would not have expected that. 

When I was in college I had a job for a year that involved handling cash, but I never got one of those pens. I'm pretty sure they were around, because I knew a grumpy old man who ran a soda shop when I was in high school, and I'd occasionally see him run a pen over a large bill to make sure it was real. 

I was taught to check bills for their color, design elements, and most of all feel -- US money is printed on a blend of linen and cotton, not commercially available, and most counterfeiters would spend too much money faking the paper to make money with their fake money. The one counterfeit bill I did find, a C-note, was caught because it didn't feel like currency. Dri Mark's pen takes away the guesswork, leaving a mark if the note is not genuine currency paper. Now the company offers products that can verify modern cash in up to five ways, and even be used on foreign moolah.

I congratulate Dri Mark for staying afloat, manufacturing a desirable product in the United States -- in New York, no less! But I still miss your smiling marker man. His enthusiasm was a little bananas, but infectious all the same. That's a lot of doodling for $1.98. 

Can't work, must meme.

Too lazy to work on Labor Day, our annual day of rest from our labors. I'm sure lots of dads will be enjoying it. All they have to do is buy the beer, set up everything outside, clean the pool, grill all the food, and then relax for ten minutes before it's time to put everything away and go to sleep for work on Tuesday. 

All I'm doing is resorting to some more memes. 

Not mine, obviously, but a good reminder.

Labor Day or Chinese Death Virus?

American Gothic 2020; hat tip David Blaska

I'm not sure if it's Labor Day or not. Every day kind of looks like Labor Day here in 2020, the year of the Wuhan Rat. The lot where I used to leave my car to catch the bus into the city would have upward of forty cars every morning; now it seldom has as many as four. Some office-based companies have been reopening their work spaces, but more are reluctant. One client of mine announced that everyone (not just us freelancers) would be working from home until January at least. Another client permanently closed the branch office it opened in New England. Most of our local businesses seem to have survived the quarantine period, but by no means all. 

The schools have reopened, sort of. I have not seen a single normal school bus go by yet; maybe this week. New York schools traditionally open after Labor Day, but what's traditional about this year? I know kids were doing some orientation things, like driving by in a parade of cars to meet their teachers. And half the people around here expect the schools to close down again as soon as some kid gets a fever.

There's backyard barbecues on for today, I guess, but way fewer than normal, even though the weather has been perfect. Haven't seen much this weekend. One up the block. Another making a hell of a racket about half a mile away, by the sound of it. One kid's birthday party. A friend of mine in New Jersey didn't even bother to announce the cancellation of his annual summer shebang. We all just knew.

Essentially, every day since March has looked like Labor Day without the fun, with no one going anywhere. I don't know that tomorrow will look any different than today. I'm just tired of the whole damn thing. 

I hope your weekend was fun where you are, because here in the lower Hudson Valley we look like all the fun has been sucked right out of us. 

No labor today.

Yes, I'm posting my photo of a hardworking laborer again for Labor Day.

You relax, kid; it's a holiday. I'm less concerned with people not working as to what happens when we do:

Regarding this meme that was making the rounds:

1) I'm afraid that Amy Winehouse is not a role model, someone from whom people ought to take advice, especially when it comes to screwing things up;

2) No one wants to hear "Oopsy!" and "That's why pencils have erasers" out of his brain surgeon, bridge engineer, pilot, or plumber;

3) I have had to swallow my pride and admit to many mistakes in my career, but I have never been cavalier about it, as this little meme would encourage me to be;

4) People who post this kind of thing want their mistakes to be overlooked, not to announce that they're hereby overlooking the mistakes of others.

Just my thoughts for the day; yours are welcome. Short dose of Vitamin Fred today; too lazy to do more.

😴

The big weekend starts.

The chorus of moaning and wailing as New York kids go into the Last Weekend of Summer is almost deafening, but I shall try to work through the distraction.

As a matter of fact, I've been called on to work over the weekend, so I don't think I'm going to be enjoying it much myself. If I were getting time and a half or double time, I suppose I wouldn't mind so much. Ah, well, the life of the freelance editor...

Of course, in my first blush of youth it wasn't just school that started after Labor Day weekend. Everything started. The three networks -- and I suppose PBS, if you were some damn hippie -- began all their new shows, and there were new episodes of returning series. There was none of this staggered start stuff, where a few would begin in October and maybe even later. Hell, the least popular shows would be gone by Halloween.

New cars also appeared like magic, September being (at least to my kid eyes, seeing car commercials) when every car manufacturer released its new automobiles for the model year. That too no longer appears to be a hard and fast rule. Some come out earlier, some in the spring... was it always like this?

In a way, Labor Day was New Year's II: The Sequel, and in some ways even better. For a student, you were mired in the school year on January 1, so there was no point in vowing to do better. When you started a new grade in September, that's when you would be vowing to do better. Of course, like a bad TV show, that vow would also be gone by Halloween.

Another way Labor Day was better than New Year's was the weather. Coming off the summer heat and humidity in New York was almost like being released from a jail made of hot Jell-O. The very molecules of your body seemed to be free to move again, and move fast, especially if your back-to-school wardrobe included cool new sneakers.

And there were no new Saturday morning cartoons on New Year's Day.

Maybe the best part of Labor Day for a kid is that you have all the best holidays coming up in the next few months -- Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. At New Year's, they're all behind you, and you face a long slog just to get to adult-type holidays (MLK Day, Presidents Day, Valentine's [yuck!] Day)....

I'm glad that the actual calendar year starts in January for other reasons, but Labor Day is an excellent time to take stock and get busy. And isn't that what fresh starts are all about?

Ex-mas.

I was walking the dog again -- I know, right? And I'd just walked him the day before! -- when we passed the various piles of garbage set out for our indefatigable trash men. And yes, I said trash men, because I've never seen a woman on the truck, and I've never met a woman who really wanted that job. I'm sure there are some, but I await their arrival.

Anyway, it looks like lots of you were busy over the Labor Day weekend! Being nosy as I am about other people's trash, I had to give it a casual-not-so-casual once-over as I went by each house. Seems like a lot of folks were cleaning out the garage, or cellar, or even attic. And good for you!

But I was sad that Christmas had come to an end.

I've had the sad duty of turning Christmas decorations over to the garbageman many times. But it always comes at the start of or after the end of the Christmas season. Either something breaks during Advent or Christmas, or I find that something mysteriously got broken in the cellar or attic in the intervening year, or I manage to break it while putting it up. But for me to toss something after Labor Day weekend would indicate that I was cleaning out the cellar or attic on Labor Day weekend. Which would mean work. Puh. Leez.

The Santa above was outside the house of a family that is getting ready to move. They had already filled a dumpster. Santa seems to have been one of the last things to go. Oh, jolly old elf, how sorry the parting must be. I could not tell if he was broken, but from little I know of their circumstances I think they're downsizing -- empty nest and all. There may just have been no room for St. Nick in the new place. It's so sad.

Below, the snowman is utterly shamed, or miserable, or was just dumped here face-down. He, at least, was definitely damaged. This family recently got a second dog, and the ripped up leg of this stuffie snowman may have been a testament to how deep in the possessions one small dog is able to get.

I know I should not get sentimental about objects, but there's hardly any other reason to have such things as these. I do think it's less sad to see them tossed outside of the Christmas season than during it or directly afterward. When it comes during or after they look like an old retainer who's been tossed into the streets. Here they look like what they are -- damaged goods getting a long-deserved rest. C'est la vie, c'est la guerre.

Labor Day: Good and Evil.

I know a fellow Catholic who is very firm in his faith, but far more firm in the faith of his labor union. Around this time of year he likes to flood social media with memes like this:

Sponsored by the United American Unfireable
Government Workers Who Retire at 50

Well, it turns out that the history of child labor laws is a good deal more complicated than his union would like us to think, and it had more to do with social welfare organizations than with the bonhomie or labor unions. England's 1802 Health and Morals of Apprentices Act of 1802 was inspired by doctors seeing alarming outbreaks of "putrid fever" in 1784. The 1833 Factory Act was a result of public outcry and not unionized labor action, which had been outlawed until a short time earlier. Where trade unions fought child labor, it was because they didn't like the cheap competition of child workers.

Regardless of their motives, and despite their long history of ties to both international communism and organized crime, I'm not going to further impugn labor unions on this, their import and largely ignored holiday. I know that to many people like my friend, it's always 1911 and the Triangle Shirtwaist fire has just happened. When it comes to moral choices that cause his union and his church to be on opposite sides, he leans to the union side every single time.

But that is not my main point today, that being: memes are a stupid way to wage an argument, and probably the main reason we're seeing so much public idiocy and even violence. You have one image and five seconds to describe your opponent's intentions, so you have to make him look like the very devil himself. Propaganda posters have done this for generations, but thanks to the Internet they are everywhere. And as we know, when it comes to fighting evil, anything goes. On our streets today, anything does.

At some point, if we want to save our civilization, we're going to have to choose to engage with intelligence and civility. In other words, we're screwed.

The day before the day before the day before the holiday holiday.

Tired of working? Ready for a holiday? Boy howdy! Me too! I must've moved a thousand pixels all on my own yesterday!

Unfortunately I no longer work in an office, so I can't whine about wanting to get away early until my boss throws me out at noon just to shut me up. I mean, I can whine, but it doesn't matter. Hey, maybe it'll work for you! Go for it!

Time was, getting a holiday with pay was awesome enough. Then we had to demand a half day on the Friday beforehand. This was understandable in Manhattan, since Friday's getaway traffic from Manhattan is horrible every week; it's worse in the summer; it is much worse on the Friday of a holiday weekend (Memorial, Labor, and sometimes Independence). That's got to be true for all cities, but as Manhattan is an island, there are only so many means of egress available, and they all get blocked solid as a heroin addict on an all-cheese diet. Even when I worked in Westchester, I would leave work on Friday and join the mass Manhattan exodus already in progress.

A lot of people won't want to come in at all, turning Friday into an extra holiday.

Personally, I liked to go in the Friday of a three-day weekend. I got credit for a full day even though we closed early. And with so many people out, I could actually get things done uninterrupted. Then I could leave early, even if it was after the rest of the token crew fled. As long as I was taking public transportation out of that overcrowded sweatbox of an island, it was smooth sailing.

Now, being self-employed, I'm stuck here. How can I knock off early when I get paid by the amount I produce? I have a deadline Tuesday that will probably require my working a good hunk of the weekend.

And I can't look forward to going home---I am home!

Hey, that's right---I am home!

Well, Tuesday's not for several days. Sounds like nap time to me! Enjoy your Friday; hope they let you go early!

Labor sucks!

I spent Labor Day laboring, and it sucked.

There's a huge difference in doing labor for your own property for improvement, maintenance, or just the sense of pride of having a nice place, and doing labor for some other schmuck for money or to escape a beating. I certainly would have enjoyed the pride of having a nice place filling me during the fatal heart attack I was bringing on.

It was 93 degrees (F, but felt like C), and I was out in the hottest part of it. Couldn't be helped; I was finishing a job on deadline, so that tied me up all morning, and meanwhile I was waiting for the sun to dry the grass and weeds so I could cut them.

That dew is a major problem.

It took hours, and the longer it took, the slower Old Man Freddy moved, stretching out the time more. At one point I told myself that as soon as the mower ran out of gas, I was going to get out of the sun, drink Gatorade, and cool off.

Apparently my mower has the Magic Tank of Holding when I want it to run out of gas, because I finished the backyard. It never did run out of gas. Maybe it will never run out of gas. That would be nice. But I ran out of gas. In fact, I got dehydrated.

I crept inside when it was over, a sad, sweaty mess. Even the dog thought I smelled bad. I dumped my clothes straight in the washer and got into the tub.

I don't remember the last time I took a bath, but it's been years. I was too wiped to stand for a shower. I soaked and scrubbed, expecting to see ticks swimming for their lives. Then I rinsed off, dried off, and took a nap.

And woke up an hour later with a cramp in my right foot, which moved to my left foot, which then turned into a rare and attention-getting thigh cramp. Yep, I was dehydrated.

Damn you, Magic Tank of Holding!

Some people will say that muscle cramps like that are not caused by dehydration. These people are wrong. Had I done that amount of work on a cool day, and I have, and more, I would have had no cramps at all. Back to the drawing board, doctors! Or should I say, "doctors"!

Anyway, cramps are gone now, no more dizziness, and no fatal heart attack, or at least not yet. But that was a lot of work for a national day off. I'm looking forward to getting some rest between now and the next Labor Day.

A poem for Labor Day.

The morning was a brilliant one
And John was feeling fine
He was a junior member
Teamsters Local 809

The job was at a demo site
For which he'd drive a truck
But twenty minutes into it
He was spit outta luck

They'd laid out all the implements
For deconstructing hovels
Including a long line of wooden-
Handled transfer shovels

John backed his truck by accident
Over handles made of wood
And snapped each handle like a twig
He broke those shovels good

"You nincompoop!" his crew chief yelled
And called him "king of fools"
"You broke our every shovel, John!
Now we ain't got no tools!"

The chief said, "Johnny, call the boss
Admit that you're a clown
And say you are real sorry and
Please just send some shovels down."

The boss told Johnny, "No way, kid,
It's just beyond my powers.
Our other tools are out on site
And won't be back for hours.

"No shovels are no problem, though,
Don't sweat about it, brother.
Just tell the boys they'll have to learn
To lean against each other."

---

Old joke, new poem. Happy Labor Day!

Labor Day Sunday.

Aaaaaaaah. 

This peaceful moment brought to you by the last big weekend of summer. "Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces."

Of course, I'm not on this spot as I write this. I am at home, working all weekend on end-of-the-month deadlines.

Even so, all is well. I like home. As Thomas Hood wrote,

Peace and rest at length have come

  All the day’s long toil is past,

And each heart is whispering, “Home,

  Home at last.”

I love our home. I just sometimes wish I had the time to enjoy it. And that it were, like, in this picture.

Gentlemen, start your burners!

Come on, boys, let's hit it!

Holy Mambajamba, it's MEAT!

It's the last hurrah, the big roundup, the final hours, the end of the line, the last rodeo, the last picture show, the stop sign, the red light, roadblock, bridge out ahead. Labor Day Weekend! Summer's almost gone! EAT MEAT!

I love my grill, but it's not a big grill like the one pictured above. And I'm just fine with that. You know, it's not what you got, it's what you do with it. I'm perfectly comfortable with my small, yet potent, grill. Yes, I can say I've never had a complaint about... well, actually I have had complaints about my cooking. And my, uh, meat.

Forget all that. The real issue here is that summer is supposed to be over. Why? Because the kids are back in school? Like parents consider that a bad thing? Every parent I know has been playing taxi driver all summer. It'll actually be easier to have the kids in school.

Because it's cooler? But we still have three weeks or so until the autumnal equinox.

Because vacation season is over? But most people I know couldn't afford to go anywhere anyhow.

And yet it feels like it's all crashing down.

Still, seasons always end before they end. Fall ends when Santa shows up at Macy's, even though fall continues until around December 21. Whether March comes in like a lamb or a lion, it's supposed to come in with spring, although it's mostly winter. And June is the first month of summer, even though it's actually the third month of spring. It just feels like an extra ripoff this year, with Labor Day landing as early as it possibly can.

I guess it's too much to expect me to fight the zeitgeist by myself with my little gas grill. But if we all keep the BBQ fires burning, maybe we can push the summer needle a little past Labor Day weekend for a change.