Labor Day often reminds us of labors we did not do
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Labor Day means different things for different people. For me, it means that it is time that I should get around to planting spring onions.
Most people have no idea that the holiday originated with the noble aim of recognizing the contributions of workers. Sadly, there is a sizable portion of our population who think the holiday commemorates mothers about to give birth.
Even if we have lost sight of what Labor Day was intended to commemorate, we are still more than willing to take advantage of the Monday holiday and a coveted three-day weekend.
I think the lack of respect for Labor Day is primarily due to our tendency to regard the holiday as the unofficial end of summer.
All the yellow school buses rolling down the roads and all the parents and babysitters dancing in the streets are signs that summer is running out of steam.
However, Labor Day weekend is like the elementary school bell that calls kids in from recess. If the holiday could talk (and I'm pretty sure it can't), it would probably say, "All right. You've had your fun. Now get to work."
This sort of thing is not a pleasant thought at any age, but I think kids are most affected by Labor Day's tolling of the last bells of summer.
When kids get out at the end of a school year, unlimited prospects lie ahead in the seemingly endless succession of vacation days. Unfortunately, those days go faster than a paycheck at a casino.
Without school to clog up some of the best parts of the day, each summer morning holds the promise of a series of fun activities that in no way involve grammar, spelling or anything remotely educational.
We had baseball, tag football, hiking, biking, swimming and game playing - and those are just the activities we could do before lunch.
Kids think that summer is almost as endless as the last two minutes of an NFL game, but days of play dwindle away and soon they are faced with the arrival of Labor Day.
Even if they start school the week before the holiday, they don't consider their summertime fun officially over until Labor Day is over.
The holiday also marks the end of grownups' summer, even though that affects them much differently than the kiddos'.
At one time, the September holiday was used to regulate fashion. The unofficial rule that women were not supposed to wear white past Labor Day is virtually unknown to members of the newest generations of adults.
My mom used to follow that guideline, so I was surprised when I noticed that she had white shoes and purse later in the fall. I was informed that the shoes and a white purse were not white; they were winter white.
I have a terrible time trying to tell the difference between black and dark navy blue pants, so I was and remain totally clueless how a shade of white can determine what season it may be worn in.
Back in the days way before my day, men also had a Labor Day fashion rule. They were not supposed to wear straw hats after that day. These days, a change from caps of Major League Baseball teams to those of college and pro football teams marks the change of seasons
Labor Day's meaning for me is actually labor related. Actually, it would probably be more accurate to say it is related to the labor that I did not do during the summer.
My pasty white complexion does have its benefits. The primary one is that I spend about as much time in the sun as Dracula. This is crucial in that much of the summer work I should have been doing takes place outdoors.
I pretty much stick to the shade from the time the 9 in 9 a.m. turns upside down to be the 6 in 6 p.m.
Since summer daylight lasts until around 9 p.m., that means I have no excuse from weeding, trimming, planting and mowing. That doesn't necessarily mean I usually do such work; it just means I don't have an excuse when I don't.
Labor Day is the holiday version of a smoke alarm as it alerts me that time is running out for me to get yard work and other outdoor projects completed before the first snowfall.
Panic is a great motivator for me and I usually wind up getting caught up on my outdoor to-do list right around Thanksgiving.
This works out really well because them I am usually able to get my spring cleaning done right before Christmas.
(Kozlowski, a freelance writer from Mount Carmel, composes "Walt's Way" for each Sunday edition.)
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