This Labor Day Remember…Bubbles Up

My Labor Day weekend will be different from 48 others that preceded it. This Labor Day weekend, a friend won’t send me one of his, “Where are you this weekend” messages. His location was usually a snapshot of some exotic location…an old airplane or a boat with a dog, cat, fish and one I never deciphered.

With more than a half century in the news business, I’ve met and worked with a wide range of people. Golfers, entrepreneurs, and even a few musicians have crossed my path. I’m better for those experiences, and a bit more diminished each time one of them passes. Jimmy Buffet’s death last September hit harder than most. When we met, he was nearly on his way to fame and fortune and I was just a wanna-be journalist/college student. But our paths crossed. What happened afterwards could be a song or a book.

This is definitely the most unusual Labor Day weekend piece I’ve ever done. I’m comfortable writing about almost anything except friends or family. My generation of journalists was warned to keep home, family, and friends separate from work. It was OK to be passionate about both, but not to commingle them. When we did, we were warned, it would seldom turn out well.

Our calling meant we would routinely deal with murders, mayhem, tragedies and the cruelties of life. They’re part and parcel of our professional lives. It’s one thing we had in common with soldiers and first responders. Like them, we share the funny stories and keep the things that give us nightmares to ourselves.

Not so with singer/songwriters. They pour their guilt, loneliness, despair, grief, laughter and tears out to others in their music and on stage. My missing friend did that well enough that he created generations of followers (Parrot Heads). There are more than a few of us in the outdoor space.

People who love the outdoors share a common bond with a guy who was “headin’ out to San Francisco” wearing Hush Puppies because he was really “never meant for glitter rock ’n’ roll.” But, like us, he was at home outside, whether in the sky or on the water. He flew like a bird, swam like a fish, and was as carefree — at least on the surface — as a river otter.

But he was different from many musicians. Sure, he wanted to be successful, but he was determined not to be “another broke-ass singer with one gold record and a wallet full of maxed-out credit cards.” He paid attention to the business part of his music and enjoyed the benefits of being a smart businessman. And he routinely told the packed houses at his shows that he appreciated the money they’d spent and that he’d give them a great show. Then, he’d grin and say, “but I’m spending your money foolishly.”

Like many of the very successful in any line of business, he made the work look like fun because he loved doing it.

It’s said that if you love what you’re doing, you’ll never work a day in your life. If that’s true, you’ll also have a lot of life each of your days. Many of you don’t have that joy in your work. Some of you don’t have a job. You’re not in a good place. It’s hard to celebrate Labor Day when you need work. It’s nearly as tough if you hate the job you have.

But the point of Labor Day is to realize that most work is better today than in the past, even if you hate it. In the 1800s, the average American worked 12-hour days and seven-day weeks to make a living. Children as young as five or six worked in mills, mines, and factories and were paid pennies. Fresh air, sanitary work conditions and safety weren’t even on the discussion board.

Manufacturing was replacing agriculture, and something was needed to protect people from employers. Things were bad, and getting worse, so workers joined together and made their presence felt. It wasn’t without sacrifice. Things got violent, and some people died, but workers made the owners pay attention.

On September 5, 1882, ten thousand workers took time off to march from City Hall to Union Square in New York City. That’s considered the first Labor Day parade. On June 28, 1894, President Grover Cleveland signed an act making Labor Day a legal holiday “in the District of Columbia and the territories.” Its purpose was to celebrate the achievements of the American worker. Today, it’s still celebrated with parades and barbecues. But most people now consider it the official end of summer or celebrate the beginning of football season.

If you find yourself without much of a reason to celebrate a long weekend, I offer the last bit of advice my friend offered when he knew he was approaching the end of his road. It’s the advice novice divers are offered when they find themselves disoriented and unable to figure out which way is up.

Bubbles up. Bubbles move to the surface. Follow them and you’ll get your head above water. Once that happens, you’re back in your element. One last bit of advice from a guy who was dying, but wanted us all to be encouraged, not saddened.  Give it a listen, then have a great long weekend.

We’ll keep you posted.