Labor Day is a lot of hard work

NOTE: This cartoon didn't run in the PRESS. I don't know what the issue was, room, time, lost the file, or editorial prerogative- but in hind sight I think it may be a little over the edge. Not because it accuses Southerners of being sexist or racist, or because it uses the word "colored," but because cartoons usually accuse politicians of things, this one accuses you the reader. So if you feel accused of liking Fred Thompson because he's a male, white, protestant, conservative- sorry, but do examine your own heart and remember, "walks like a duck, quacks like a duck..."

The Mapleton PRESS Thursday, September 13, 2007

My wife even prepared me for sleeping in a summer camp cabin with 12 other people at a family reunion by making sure that I brought some throat spray and “breath-right” strips for my nose so that no one would be kept awake by my snoring.

So it seemed like our eight year old was going to be the one who snored. I was having trouble sleeping and could hear her having trouble breathing. Everyone else had just nodded off around eleven, after several efforts at getting out two-year old settled. When she was five, we had Grace’s tonsils and adenoids out so that she’d get less congested. It hadn’t seemed to help that night.

I could hear the poor kid coughing and got up to grab some toilet paper to have her blow her nose. It was too late. When I got back from the bathroom, she was standing next to my wife’s bunk, asking permission to throw up. Who asks permission for that?

I ushered her in the dark to the restroom and she almost made it. I tried my best to console her and clean up after her without waking everyone else up, but to no avail. Her five year old sister and ten year old cousin were quite vocal about their distress over the odor, so the cabin door had to open and over head light had to come on.

Eventually I finished with Grace and the adults got the cousins to calm down and go back to sleep.

My mother-in-law objected to my leaving the bathroom light on, even with the door almost closed, but I understand the need for dark to help you sleep.

That’s when our two year old woke up. Sort of. We think she may have been in some kind of semi-conscious dream state, because she kept asking for her mother, who was already holding her.

Two year olds are notorious for being afraid of the dark and anxious in strange places. My wife and I and my mother-in-law all took turns trying to console the toddler, but to no avail. She was so distraught that her cries became coughs and- you guessed it, more vomit.

Two year olds are also notorious for not making it to the bathroom. After another round of cleaning up, my wife eventually resorted to taking the child out to our van to sleep in her car seat. Mosquitoes not withstanding, that was probably about as good as they could do.

Sunday afternoon we were all packed up and ready to head home after the big church service, business meeting and pot-luck. But, as will happen, we couldn’t find the two year old. I was searching the lodge inside while my wife searched outside. Finally, our daughter responded to my calling her name. She was in the lady’s room. I knocked on the door-frame and announced “man on the floor,” hoping she’d be the only female in there. Sure enough she was, and she was busy.

“I’m changing my poopy pants,” she explained. Part of me was almost proud, we’re finally getting somewhere with potty training. I say PART of me was proud. Pants at half-mast meant poop was everywhere.

I grabbed my wife. She’s clean up the child if I’d run to the van to get wipes and new clothes (sometimes it’s good to be a man- except for the guilt). Well, one of the dozens of second and third cousins happened to bring her two-year old into the bathroom right about that time. This second toddler was so overcome by the aroma of our child, that, you guessed it, she vomited. So now these two poor women are sharing the joy of cleaning up after both of their kids. Now, I was just outside, waiting patiently, providing distant moral support, so I didn’t witness this, but, as I warned, this was a classic situation…

I’m very proud of what a strong woman my wife is. She’s been through a lot and she can maintain her composure in almost any situation, far better than me. She had to be able to in this instance, because the other mother was so overcome by her daughter’s vomit, that she lost her lunch too.

Ted Mallory lives in Charter Oak and teaches at Boyer Valley Schools in Dunlap. 'Ted's Column' has appeared weekly in the Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper since 2002. You can see all of Ted's cartoons at http://tmal.multiply.com

The Tin man is rusty

There it goes. Summer. Last Monday was the unofficial end. Oh sure, it’s dang hot this week, and autumn doesn’t officially begin until September 23, but you and I both know that the jig is up. The kids are back to school, the tomato, zucchini, and cucumber crops are tapering off and there really isn’t any more good fresh sweet corn. The last big BBQ, the last family reunions, the last trip to the lake, that was last weekend.

Here’s how my goofy brain works; it’s Labor Day so I think about Memorial Day, the other book-end on summer. Whenever I think about Memorial Day I think about three things, veterans, the Indianapolis 500, and the Wizard of Oz. That’s not so weird. For decades the Wizard of Oz and the Indy 500 always came on TV that weekend, so stay with me.

Okay, so I’m thinking about Frank Baum’s "The Wizard of Oz," that makes me think of Labor Day again. "What? Where is he going with this?" You’re saying to yourself, trust me, I’ll get there.

The Wizard of Oz is actually an allegory. An Allegory is a story where everything symbolizes something else, right? Come to find out that Dorothy represents all of us, at least we average Midwesterners. The Wizard represented politicians, the Emerald City is Washington D.C., all our hopes and dreams for a better life are pinned on the Wiz.

The Cowardly Lion is the Church, it’s supposed to reign in our lives, but too often Christians are too complacent or too frightened to take a stand for what’s right. The Scarecrow is Farming, Agriculture, the American Farmer. Scarecrow was probably the smarted person in the story of the Wizard of Oz, but too often we in rural America sell ourselves short. I hear students everyday put themselves down because they’re from Iowa or from a small town, when in reality we’re no less intelligent or sophisticated then anyone else in America.

The Tin Man is more rusty than ever these days. He represented the American worker. I don’t know if it’s the 50’s fear of Communism, the 60’s and 70’s corruption and unrest, or the rampant greed and materialism of the 80’s and 90’s, but it seems like people just don’t respect labor anymore. In the 90’s, less than 15 percent of workers belonged to unions, in the 1950's of nearly half did.

It could be that all we ever hear about is the "new economy," information and service have replaced manufacturing. It could be that we encourage our kids to get white-collar jobs to make more money. It could be that more and more blue-collar jobs are held by immigrants. Sometimes we whites wish life and America would just stay white. Whatever the reason we forget about the working man. Even if politically you’re opposed to labor unions, you should still recognize and respect the contribution of workers.

We think of farmers on thanksgiving and veterans on Memorial Day and Veterans Day, but on Labor Day, we think about Boats, Brauts, and Bud Light.

Let me give you a refresher course. In the 1890’s Pullman Illinois was a "Company Town." That meant workers lived in homes rented to them by the Railroad they worked for. Pay was low and rent was high.

It reminds you of the line from Tennessee Ernie Ford’s old tune "Sixteen Tons"-

"Saint Peter don’t ya call me ‘cause I can’t go, I owe my soul to the company store."

At any rate, Eugene V. Debs came in and organized the American Railway Union. They went on strike for better by, lower rent and a day off once a year. President Grover Cleveland broke the strike and Debs went to prison, his ARU was disbanded, and Pullman employees were forced to sign a pledge not to unionize again. Unions were pretty much eliminated until the Great Depression.

In September 1892, union workers in New York City took an unpaid day off and marched around Union Square in support of a national holiday for workers.

1894 was an election year. President Cleveland seized the chance at conciliation, and Labor Day was born. He was not reelected.

Think about your folks. Whether they’re farmers, teachers, mechanics, hair-dressers, sell insurance, drive truck, or work at the plant, they were working to keep a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food on the table. Labor day is summer’s last hurrah, but it should also be a day when you say thanks to people who work hard to make life better. Without the Tin Man, you’d never get out of the woods.