Enid News and Eagle
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What is the significance of Labor Day? Think about it.
We are getting ready to celebrate a last fling of summer with a holiday honoring working people. Labor Day, as a national holiday, came into existence in 1894 at the urging of labor organizations with a bill signed by President Grover Cleveland. In the United States, summer vacations begin with Memorial Day and end with Labor Day. The first Monday in September was selected because it was halfway between July 4 and Thanksgiving, which gave working people a day off for one last day of celebration before winter set in.
Fall is in the air, and the days begin to get cooler. When I was a kid it simply meant we started to school the next day, so I loved that holiday.
Lucy Larcom was a wise woman who felt the same way about work that most of us do. She wrote, “The beauty of work depends upon the way we meet it, whether we arm ourselves each morning to attack it as an enemy that must be vanquished before night comes, or whether we open our eyes with the sunrise to welcome it as an approaching friend, who will keep us delightful company all day, and who will make us feel at evening that the day was well worth its fatigue.”
We all approach work in different ways and for different reasons. Some work only for money. Some see work as a service to others. And some work only for the gratification of working and the joy of accomplishing something worthwhile.
Whatever our real reason, I would hope we derive some pleasure from the work we do. Daddy used to say if a person did work they loved, they never had to “work” a day in their lives. Every day was a pleasure and a joy.
That sounds great, but I feel sure there were days during the Great Depression Daddy went to work without joy. Whether the work brought him joy or not, working with his team of mules, Joe and Jude, brought him a measure of satisfaction and accomplishment that he was providing for his family. He brought pleasure into his work with his positive attitude.
While Daddy worked for the government building roads and dams, Mother stayed home with us kids and kept the home running smoothly. She might have been a great actress, but I always felt she really loved what she was doing and wouldn’t trade places with anyone. The joy she exuded came from within — certainly not from the tasks at hand.
I am sure the way Grandma and Grandpa worked after they settled in Indian Territory and raised their family on seemingly nothing was a real challenge, but they continued to work hard and improve their land and eventually came out on top. They believed work was the answer to almost everything ... worry, finances, grieving and getting ahead in life. They passed that passion for work on to succeeding generations.
We all have heard the saying: “If you want a job done, ask a busy person to do it.” I believe that is true. Look in any church or civic organization. The ones who do most of the work are the ones busiest — and who have many, many accomplishments. They are happiest when busy and doing for others. Work is part of the driving purpose in the universe. Many look forward to when they can retire and quit all work. Others seek diligently for the easy tasks. But the happiest people are those who work simply for the joy of accomplishment.
Work should become an altar upon which we offer our best selves to a needy world. The ability to work is such a blessing.
All labor, if it has a purpose, has dignity. There are no menial jobs. Whether a person is a ditch digger, construction worker or a physician, every job is important. There are no jobs more important nor more commonplace than another. Life’s simplest tasks contribute to society and living. The goal is to do good for others ... and in doing so, be joyful and feel a sense of achievement.
When I was a little kid, we all had chores to do. Mine, when I was about four years old, was to pick up wood chips or cobs to start the fire in the stove each morning. I helped gather eggs. I threw out food for the chickens and fed the cats milk. No matter how young or old we were, we had chores we were responsible for every night and every morning. We did them without fail and with pleasure. It saddens me now to see parents who pay their kids just to take our trash or make their beds or do other household responsibilities when I believe everyone works together to make a home or family run smoothly. Making a family contribution has its own reward.
Mother used to say there are two changeless sources of solid happiness: First is the belief in God, and the second is the habit of hard work toward useful ends. Amen, Mother.
It is fresh peach time. What better way to enjoy them than this peach cake? Ice with simple icing or serve warm with ice cream. It brings back wonderful memories of a delightful but hard day’s work competing with wasps to pick peaches in the orchard.
Peach Cake
2 cups sugar
1 cup butter or shortening
4 large eggs
1⁄4 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons soda
1 teaspoon salt
21⁄2 cups flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon or nutmeg (optional)
1 cup chopped nuts
2 cups ripe peaches, mashed or chopped fine
Cream sugar and butter. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Add soda to buttermilk. Add alternately with sifted dry ingredients. Fold in peaches and nuts. Pour in 9x13 baking dish. Bake in 325 degree oven for 40 to 45 minutes, until cake springs back when touched.
Enjoy this Labor Day Weekend. Be safe on the roads and reflect on the important work you do every day.
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Note: In last week’s recipe I failed to list the one and one half cups sugar necessary for the sugar cookies. Sorry about that!
