Learning and Labor

1. Like many people, I've been so focused on the work that's in front of me that I haven't given much thought to the context and consequences of my labor. We have a national holiday that once upon a time was intended for that, so I'm going to take a break and give it a try.

For most of my life, technology has been touted as a glorious promise of "labor-saving" devices, and it's true that machines have done much to help workers. But the upshot has been a denigration of work, with the almost unavoidable inference that 'labor' is something to be scorned, avoided, or tolerated as a necessary evil. A magazine ad from my youth proclaimed: "Machines should work. People should think."

Dobie Gillis pauses beside Rodin's "Thinker" to ponder life's eternal questions; Maynard G. Krebs cries out in alarm: "WORK!"

One of several colleges I attended (when I should have been out in the Real World, WORKING) has had as its motto since 1833 the lofty phrase 'Learning and Labor', which, besides its alliterative allure, sings to the Progressive in each of us that our effort can be put to productive and virtuous use if we study hard and bend to the task. It says both are good in themselves, and they are connected, so if you have purely intellectual aspirations, get over yourself.

At one time that was literally the case at the aforementioned institution of higher education. All students were given a job that helped keep the place running. Nowadays, of course, we have people to clean the buildings, landscape the grounds, unload the trucks, cook the meals, maintain the heating plant, move furniture, answer phones, make copies. Although this division of labor creates jobs for townies, I think the students are missing out. They're learning from books, computers, lectures, discussions, on the Web, in the lab, in the library, in the gym, but not so much from labor.

Other unrelated (mostly) Labor Day musings:

2. You know you've been spending too much time in your left-brain when the beauty of a well-placed comma, the elegant balance and rounded corners of a transposition box, and the ink drying on a paragraph sign causes astonishing aesthetic pleasure. Note to self: single-minded concentration on making corrections in other people's text can have at least short-term effects, so go ahead and admire the subtle beauty of the Pilot V5 Rolling Ball marker interacting with the paper, then consider taking a break.

3. Behold the lilies of the field...The spider lilies in pots on the patio are making their annual appearance at last, first one and then another on the end of a long, thick stem. They last for a couple of days, then wilt as the next one emerges, not like clockwork at 5:00 like Chas and Helen's but unpredictably, like this morning after the rain. I separated one from its clump, put it in a terra cotta pot that Zelda made in ceramics class, and put it on her new front porch. I hope it lives.

4. We dog-sat Sadie for a few days while friends Jim and Kate were in Copper Harbor, on the tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula, after dropping off their son at Northland College, where he's thinking about environmental studies. Kate's grandparents lived in the UP, so I guess they are doing the roots trip and the wings trip.

5. Thoreau said, "Beware of enterprises that require new clothes." I would add: Beware of politicians who own large amounts of property and claim to be champions of the working class. Beware of rhetoric that is heavily laden with references to goodness, truth, freedom, compassion, democracy, and God's will.

6. This one's for Lulu and Kevin, who know something about learning and labor:

The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous

The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for the fuse
I'm in the streets
With the tombstone blues

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in"

Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison"

[chorus]

Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"

The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saving, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken"

[chorus]

The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle

[chorus]

The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter

Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after

[chorus]

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college

Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for the fuse
I'm in the streets
With the tombstone blues

Copyright ©1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music