Labor Day

So today is the day to honor those who can do what I cannot do: Hard Labor.  So this one’s for the construction workers, the garbage men, the gardeners, and the plant workers. 

But what about the women and children sold into slavery in other countries?  Should we send them a gift?  Will that make it alright?  See they don’t get a day off.  I don’t even know if they get a couple hours off.

Not to belabor the point but does the way we celebrate even make any sense?  We have barbeques or go to the beach on some tropical island. 

So how do we honor them?  I don’t know.  Maybe by trying to figure out a way to stop all this madness.  Maybe by designating this as the true craziness.

Labor can be a satisfying thing, so I’m told.  Those who have worked with their hands their entire life will tell you that.  But I can’t imagine that slave labor is satisfying and not torturous and wrong.

Slavery is illegal in America you say, so why should I care?

Because we live in a world, not just a country.  Because if you happen to go on VACATION to some remote part of the Earth, break the law by like spitting or something, you could end up in SLAVE LABOR for the rest of your life.

Sorry to be so depressing and ranting, but come one.  In this day and age, when we all know its happening, why aren’t we doing something to stop it.

What are we gonna do?  I don’t know bring it to Obama’s attention.  Join the One organization.  Listen to Angelina Jolie….I don’t know.  Send a letter to Oprah.  We all know she rules the world. 

I do know that I’m scared.  Scared to death of not living my cushiony life.  Scared to death that chains could be put around my feet.   There is a saying that goes something like this: If there is one man in chains, none of us are free.

So should we celebrate on Labor Day?  I think we should always celebrate something.  But we can’t forget.  Forget where our tennis shoes came from and our pretty rugs. 

I love pretty things, embroidered shirts, pillows, shoes.  I look at where these things are made and I buy them anyways.  Knowing full well that in China and Indonesia and India etc. there are very few laws about how beauty is created. 

They are artists you know, kids who make carpets, women who sew beautiful tops and skirts.  So next time you see something beautiful, turn it upside down and see where it’s made.  Most likely not in the USA.  Most likely by some kid or woman in a remote village.

I still buy that shit.  In fact most of my clothes are made in other countries.  But I’m a hypocrite and should practice what I preach.

So who is to blame?  Me?  Nike?  The guy who kidnaps the people to do the work?  Who owns him?  I don’t know, I just thought I’d bring it to your attention. 

So go to that picnic or the beach or the barbeque and have few laughs.  Just don’t forget why you have a day off.  Don’t forget that there are those who don’t get a day off, a minute off, a second off.

To be “on” all the time is torture.  My back hurts from typing on my bed.  I can’t imagine if I had to lift heavy things all day.  I think I would die. 

Sorry to be so preachy but there are times when it is necessary to think about what’s going on in the world besides what we are shown on TV.  It’s time that someone stopped this madness.

nina