By Becky Nelson
Bramblings
The big M in the middle of my hand would be a W if I were looking at it not as myself, but as someone across from me. In a weirdly philosophical way, I thought that’s what a lot of my friends and family might think of me … work.
I work all the time. I steal time during the day to watch a show at lunchtime or take a break in the afternoon and look at a newspaper, but most weeks flow into the next without much of a break. Anyone who has ever been a farmer knows exactly what I am talking about.
We always tried to take a vacation with the kids when they were young, and usually felt guilty about the week away from the farm. I’m not sure how the kids felt about our work-driven life, but I hope we provided them with a bit of a base and an idea of what they did NOT want their lives to be. Both of our children are now parents themselves, and are both very good about taking time off and away. I pray that continues, and that the farm becomes something different in the future … that they run the farm, it does not run them if they decide to keep farming. But back to Labor Day.
My workday is of my own choosing. Though long and hard, I have the luxury of being my own master. I am watching a series on Prime Vido entitled “The Mill” about the conditions and struggles of children indentured as “apprentices” to a “master” at a cotton mill. The owners and masters also own a plantation with slaves in “Dominica,” and the conditions in the English factory for the child laborers were appalling, probably worse on the plantation. Reality was probably close to the conditions shown, and the history of child labor is as heinous as slavery. Britain was not the only place to subject disadvantaged children into semi-servitude in workhouses and factories, with America subjecting its own children to long hours of forced labor during the Industrial Revolution. Kids, mostly boys, began their “apprenticeships” between the ages of 10 and 14 and were sent by their parents who needed the income to survive themselves. Unable to go to school and in unsafe conditions, these kids were paid lower wages than adults and thus began a cycle of perpetual poverty as children in mines, on farms, in factories and mills lined the pockets of the “masters” with cash. Real change wasn’t even a thought until the Great Depression in the 1930s, and only then because adults were out of work.
Even though Labor Day was established in 1894 during turmoil and unrest during the Industrial Revolution, child labor laws were not passed that survived constitutional review until 1938 when the Fair Labor Standards Act was passed which established a minimum age of 16 in most jobs and 18 in dangerous occupations. Even then, some states continued to allow child labor until the 1940s when there was an uptick during World War II. That wasn’t very long ago. Some of the children subjected to labor by parents who needed their income to support the family may even still be living.
I work. I do not labor. I can lend my talents to a factory or an office or right here at the farm and not have to worry about being forced to work an 18-hour day unless I so choose. We in the U.S. are blessed to have had laborers and workers who organized and fought for their rights as employees and continue to fight for a voice at the table. While most folk do labor at their jobs, forced to work to keep food on the table and roofs over their heads, the “labor” environment of today is a whole lot better than in the past.
To me, the word labor means no choice. A woman cannot choose the time to go into labor. Slaves could not choose not to perform labor. Children not that long ago couldn’t choose not to labor. Until unions were established, many workers had no choice but to live in the company village, buy products at the company store, labor in the mines of the company from pre-dawn until nightfall. Whether or not you agree or disagree with “union” organizations, historically, labor unions changed the face of our work environments to what we know today, and it’s a whole lot better than a hundred years ago.
The significance of Labor Day is enormous, but like most things, we don’t give it much thought other than it is a long weekend to celebrate the end of summer and the start of fall and school. With artificial intelligence a reality, mechanization taking over many physical jobs and laws protecting workers, the significant meanings of Labor Day are getting dimmer by the minute. I think we all need to reflect a bit, however, and be aware that our country’s past isn’t as rosy and beautiful as some songs suggest. Our shadows are getting longer earlier in the day as the sun sets and sends a quick shiver now and again as Labor Day and Fall approach. Try to remember that those shadows and shivers as the lives of many before us that worked horrible hours under horrible conditions to make our picnics a reality. Their daily grind was a whole lot heavier than ours, and I will try to spend a few moments in remembrance of those hard-working folks when I look at the “W” in my palm.
I hope you all have a relaxed and enjoyable Labor Day.
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Publish date : 2024-08-30 17:00:00
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