The Labors of Labor Day

By: Angela Gillaspie Copyright © September 2005

Labor Day is different from all other holidays because it doesn't honor a special person or celebrate a famous birthday or military triumph, but it does pay a yearly tribute to the economic accomplishments of American workers.

New York's Central Labor Union organized the first Labor Day on Tuesday, September 5, 1882 and in 1894, Congress passed a law recognizing Labor Day as an official holiday to be celebrated on the first Monday of September.

My daddy's parents and eleven siblings weren't union workers, but they definitely labored hard on their 100-plus acre farm. Back then around the 1950-60's, I imagine they didn't celebrate Labor Day because it occurred during the fall harvest season. There were fields of white corn, yellow corn, and sugar cane to cut, pick, and sort - the white corn was taken to the grist mill to grind into cornmeal, the yellow corn cured in the cob house to feed the animals, and the sugar cane was cooked into molasses. Even if they got their fieldwork finished, there were plenty more chores to do like feeding the cows, pigs, horses and mules and robbing the chickens to keep them from Labor Day festivities. The family contributed to the community and economy by selling cornmeal, vegetables, molasses, and cured hams, plus running moonshine occasionally.

Back in the same era, Momma's side of the family mostly lived in the city and got Labor Day off from their factory jobs. There was a parade down the middle of town with a huge American flag, decorated cars, area high school bands, floats, and dancing ladies. Afterward there was a festival with arts and craft shows, rodeos, competitions of all kinds, and sometimes a company baseball game.

I associate Labor Day mostly with those delicious Masonic Lodge barbecues of my youth; they had the best home-cooked food ever (except for the food found at the church's Sunday potluck supper). I remember Momma loading our '73 Ford station wagon with her famous cole slaw (or "cold" slaw as I thought it was called), jugs of sweet tea, lawn chairs, and me, my two sisters, and Daddy and his Johnny Cash 8-track tapes.

We tried to get there early so that the good stuff wasn't picked over. There was chopped pork barbecue, dozens and dozens of deviled eggs, tubs of potato salad, buckets of baked beans, Momma's cold cole slaw, jars of homemade pickles and pickled okra, sliced tomatoes and onions fresh from the garden, ketchup-based barbecue sauce, mustard-based barbecue sauce, and thick slices of white bread. For dessert there several variations of banana pudding, sliced ice cold watermelon, lemon ice box pie, and apple cobbler.

While we ate, a few slick-looking fellows with big yellow teeth gave speeches. When the public politicking was over, a bluegrass band from Tennessee started pickin' and fiddlin', and cloggers dressed in shiny red crinoline took the stage tapping and grinning. Off to the side, you could hear a splash as the preacher got baptized over and over in the dunking booth.

The mayor donated Bazooka bubble gum for a bubble blowing contest. Three out of four years, I came in second. The year I was 12, I blew the biggest bubble and won! The prize was braggin' rights and a gallon bucket of Bazooka bubble gum. Momma made me share my prize with my sisters, so I chewed as much gum as quickly as possible plus I was determined to figure out that enigma: will my chewing gum lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight?

By the end of the day, I was full as a tick and red from stem to stern with barbecue sauce, watermelon, and sunburn. I was also a bit sad too because Labor Day meant two things: summer was over and it was time to go back to school.

Nowadays, Labor Day is pretty laid back for my family of six. I bake beans while my hubby grills ribs, and we toss the football with the older two boys, blow bubbles with the youngest, and talk about the evilness of boyfriends with the oldest.

My hubby and I never worked for a union - or at farming either - but we do appreciate the contributions that all American workers make. We especially are thankful for those workers that work on Labor Day because two of our four kids were born within a day or so of this holiday.

Whether you labor over a mound of dirt, lead a group of bipolar accountants, or coach a very pregnant woman to let go of her husband's neck and to PUSH, you are honored on this day.

Happy Labor Day!

Stay tuned for more of SouthernAngel's Laborous Laughter!