Labor Day

I always feel sad that people have to work on Labor Day. It doesn't seem right on a holiday that, according to the Department of Labor's website,

is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers.

That has a fairly Marxist ring to it, it seems to me.  But, since the holiday

constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country,
 

I decided to participate in the promotion of that prosperity by going to the store.

In my defense, I spent the morning clearing out more and more of the accumulation of crap detritus remnants of childhoods past stuff boxes and shopping bags and recyclables from the garage. In the afternoon, I distributed them around town.  I didn't do any shopping until I got to the nursery, and with a wedding-at-home in less than three weeks that counts as preparation rather than mere commerce.

G'ma's Pesach dishes (the special ones that have never been soiled by leavening) went from the floor to Goodwill, along with the electronic typewriter Big Cuter used to fill out his college applications back in 2000.  I could see G'ma's translucent chicken soup with larger than life matzoh balls floating next to the teeny bit of carrot that got through the strainer in my hands as I carried the bowls I was donating to a stranger the soup to the Seder table.  There was something more delicate about those dishes, something softer and prettier than my parents' usual scenery, something that touched my heart as the box and the bag and the memories went onto the cart in the parking lot of the Donation Station.  I was less sentimental about the towels and books and assorted this product will make your life easier items I bought before I realized I'd rather pay someone to do that particular chore than do it myself.  Again, in my defense, I did try each of them at least once.

Those things ended up at Goodwill only because they were rejected by Bookmans, the used book and, on occasion, used stuff emporium.  Although they bought back the hard covered books I'd bought with store credit the week before, my memories junk was just junk to them, too.

More bedding plants were purchased and no there will be no photos because this is all in preparation for the grand unveiling at the arrival of the bride and groom..... my baby and her young man..... the little girl just yesterday..... and so, though it be Labor Day, I shall labor on, beautifying and making new memories.... because that's really so much more important than the stuff.  That which I love the most I carry in my heart; nothing could induce me to live this far from my children were that not the case. 

I go to plant.