Labor Day

My favorite thing to do: WORK. So, you might say that Labor Day, yesterday, was my holiday. If I’m not working, I hear my mother’s voice, notwithstanding the fact that she’s been gone for 40 years.

“Get off that chair. You’ll never amount to anything,” rings in my ears. (I’ve cleaned up the language here.) “Do you have to read that book for school?” (Easy to lie here since, through no fault of her own, she didn’t finish sixth grade.)

In my family, if you weren’t working, you didn’t deserve to live. Tough baggage, but too late now to check it at the gate.

Besides, there are so many other pluses to Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer. Even in California, where there is no fall to speak of, I’m comforted by the fact that there’s supposed to be fall, and that the days of dry, unrelenting 90+-degree sunny weather are numbered.

My first place of employment -- twirling cotton candy for 50c/hr.

My first place of employment — twirling cotton candy for 50 cents/hr.

Here’s what’s coming:

  1. I can put away those nasty white clothes that need ironing, show spills without mercy, and are not as slimming as blacks (sometimes you just have to add an LOL).
  2. I can officially buy large bags of Halloween candy without getting strange looks at checkout.
  3. School starts! My husband doesn’t like this aspect of fall because we’re surrounded by three schools and it’s hard to get out of our driveway. I take the optimist’s view and rejoice in the fact that maybe some learning is going on right here in our neighborhood.
  4. The ratio of kid movies in theaters to adult movies will change from 100 to 1 to 10 to 1.
  5. Ice cream parlors will be kid-free again before 3 PM.
  6. Pumpkin flavored everything will be back.
  7. Theater comes alive on Broadway; all museum wings are open; and it’s finally safe to plan a vacation. Unless my mother tells me I don’t deserve one.



6 Responses

  1. Cute, Camille:
    My still-ringing-motherism: “Tommy, you’re not living up to your potential!”

  2. At least she thought you had potential, Tom :).

  3. I had a mother like yours, Camille. Her Presbyterian upbringing taught her that Hard Work is the Salvation of the Soul–and she tried to pass this on to me.Although I rejected the principle, I still have something of my mother’s DNA in my genes and even her demise didn’t cure me, alas, of my work ethic.

  4. My parents weren’t Italian but somehow I got some dolce far niente in my genes and love to not work, though as a writer, the brain is always chugging quietly away at something, I guess….

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