08.31.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:54 pm by Administrator
Traditionally, the first Monday of September has been the day set aside to honor the American worker by way of a holiday. The first Labor Day was celebrated on September 5, 1882 in New York City, and later spread to other cities and then, nationwide. Although the name of the person who actually founded the holiday has been disputed, there is no doubt that the celebration is a unique one.
The day usually represents the last blast of summer. From now on, nights will be cooler, children will be back in school, and the “lazy, hazy” days of our hottest season of the year will be but a memory.
This country was built on a base of determination and hard work. How fitting a tribute it is to honor the history of labor and to set aside time to think of the individuals in our own families, and beyond our own circles, who filled and continue to perform so many roles and provide for the needs of so many others.
When I think of the term “labor,” certain images come to mind. I think of the Chinese and Irish workers who built the transcontinental railroad. I recall fishermen sailing off into dangerous waters and sudden storms off the New England coast. I think of people who work on high scaffolds, washing windows in high rise buildings, or even constructing the buildings themselves. I ponder the work of doctors, struggling against all odds to save a heart patient, or the victim of multiple injuries.
Oh yes, to be sure, there are many people in our lives about whose work we can be thankful on this Labor Day…from the migrant workers in the fields and orchards, harvesting crops, to the musicians who help us to keep a song in our hearts; from the mothers (or fathers) who cook food for the family, to the museum directors who work so hard to keep history alive.
We all have our part in keeping America strong. We all have a “place in the choir.” For now, let’s take a day of rest, or even a long weekend of rest and relaxation. There is a time to work and a time to play. For just a little while, the “work” can wait.
Patricia
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08.28.07
Posted in Musings, Opinion, Politics at 11:48 am by Administrator
When FDR stated that we have nothing to fear but fear itself, reportedly he was referring to the need for Americans to develop more faith in the economy and increase spending. The oft quoted phrase is most often used to refer to war situations, or alternatively to the essence of the qualities of fear. If we are fearful, we are non-productive; we are non-creative. Fear is paralyzing and zaps our very strength and all of our energy.
The idea behind fear, in time of war, is “to get them before they get us,” a common mindset. The trouble is that the enemy is often an unknown entity. Fighting a ghost, we try to sidestep him, in our dreams. However, then he brings his friends along for support, and we are surrounded by leering, jeering, nebulous, almost-but-not-quite-there, images in our brains. The exercise is somewhat like shadow boxing.
I woke up from a similar nightmare this morning. In this dream sequence, I was surrounded by thugs in black leather jackets with metal studs. They wanted something of me. I knew not what. Jolting awake, I had the awareness of anger and the solid feeling that I would not go down without a fight.
Threatening behavior of others, whether in words or actions, is something I might have more easily walked away from in the past, and “let it go,” in the interest of peace. Now, I don’t encourage the bullies who would try to run roughshod over my psyche, like a roller attempting to mash down hot pavement and mold it into whatever shape they desire for their own USE.
I realize that my very own psychic reaction to threats is something I have in common with those who start wars. It is predictable that anyone would want to defend oneself, in the face of a despot, or a group of unsavory criminals.
While thinking all of these thoughts, I am also intensely aware of the fact that I dislike violence, and I REALLY DESPISE the current war, with its broken bodies, grieving loved ones, and blood spilled onto the earth, all for the fleeting ideologies of old men, who really can’t make up their minds about much of anything, except that they are “right.” Better to be right, I guess, than to be sensible.
We desperately need to get out of Iraq, and not think about invading yet a third country in the region, Pakistan, as Obama has suggested. We just keep becoming more and more enmeshed in the Middle East, and were it not for oil and business interests in the area, I doubt that we would pay much attention there.
As the death count rises, who can even keep track of how many soldiers or civilians have died? The number of disabled veterans is another sad story altogether. They, too, have given their “lives” for a cause that seemed like the right thing to do, at the time.
Yes, I am patriotic. Yes, I love this country. Yes, I support the troops. That is WHY, my friend, I would like to see our friends, our brothers, our sons and daughters, our husbands, our nephews, our nieces, our grandchildren, and our neighbors come home, where they belong.
The Home of the Brave Quilt Program is way behind in providing quilts for families of the deceased soldiers. While initially it was a nice idea, the thought of providing a quilt to each of the families of a fallen soldier was probably conceived at a time when the “war” was thought to be one of less duration.
With 2,300 quilts made, so far, the program is short of its goals. Clouding the issue is the demand of divorced parents to have their own personal “remembrance” by way of a tribute quilt, and the demand also of a twin, or other family member, to also have one. It has been difficult to keep up with giving one quilt to a family, let alone providing multiples. If you’ve ever made a quilt, you certainly would better understand the amount of work involved. ‘Taint easy, or quick!
While it is a wonderful thing to acknowledge the sacrifices of the military, it would be a far GREATER accomplishment to bring the troops home. I do not see this happening soon. Armaments and personnel have been increased over there for a long period of time. Logistically, we cannot exit quickly. We are caught in a “Catch 22″ situation that has ripped this country apart, politically, emotionally, and financially. There has to be an end-point to this insanity of WAR.
We should be making war on “war.” Only then, can we make quilts to celebrate a victory, when this enemy of children, the arts, and living things, is conquered.
Patricia Cummings
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Posted in Uncategorized at 12:54 am by Administrator
This morning, I asked Jim if he was willing to “play hooky” with me and skip town for the day. After inquiring what I had in mind, and getting the response in two words, “Damariscotta, Maine,” we loaded up the cooler with some water and headed out, bright and early.
Maine has been aptly described as “Life in the slow lane,” and that is a good description. Another more recent logo is “Life as it should be.” Other signs along the roadway indicate “Moose Crossing.” Ironically, as many times as we have been to the state, the only moose I’ve seen was a dead one on the back of a trailer, destined to become “moosemeat.”
The sun was bright enough to need sunglasses, and as we traveled along, a few times we could see herons, standing in various bodies of water visible from the road. While seeing wildlife and wild birds is always a plus, our goal today was to visit an antiques shop that is one of my favorites.
I did find a late nineteenth century pieced quilt, with lots of Cadet Blue fabrics, to purchase. The quilt did come WITH a provenance, including the names of the three ladies who worked on it, their birth and death dates, and the town where they kept a sewing shop: Lambertville, New Jersey.
The last of the ladies died in 1937, and it is a relative who had put this item in the shop. How wonderful it is when historical information is willingly shared at point of sale, in a shop, but that is so very rare!
We experienced a delightful lunch at Schooner’s Landing in Damariscotta, where we have been a few times previously. The eating deck is right on (and actually, over) the water of the salt water bay. While munching, we were able watch loons, geese, ducks, seagulls, and people in small boats and kayaks. We had a cup of haddock chowder, quesadillas, and a piece of blueberry pie, made with wild Maine berries.
After that, we headed home, having spent enough money for one day, and having stayed away from our computers too long, and wanting to catch up on mail and phone messages. We always manage to have fun when we are together, and that is a good thing for a married couple who has paddled the same canoe for such a long time.
Other days, we are hard at work. Today, we wanted an “artists’ date” and that is exactly what happened. I know I’m spoiled.
“Thank God from whom all blessings flow.”
Patricia
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