It’s another sunny day in our nation of dystopia, Labor Day Monday, the end of the summer in feeling if not in calendar. A day set aside to remember the people who brought us a weekend, safety conditions, a minimum wage and a multitude of other workplace requirements we take for granted has never felt more apt.
It was a weekend of cooking and baking, first cinnamon rolls, then a cake, and then I made pizza for my parents, and they greatly enjoyed it. This time, it was done in a pan, the crust thicker and bready.
It was good.
Today would normally be marked by BBQs and parents scrambling through well-picked shelves for last-minute school supplies, but nothing is normal anymore. There were gradual changes and abrupt leaps, and here we are and I don’t like it and I want to go home.
I suspect we all do.
But who’s to say that can exist again. There is only one way to find out, to get rid of this regime come November, to elect Vice President Joe Biden and watch him try to untangle this knotty, knotty mess. Perhaps a Democratic Congress can pass laws to prevent it ever happening again.
Meanwhile, I will treat this day like a holiday, whatever that means here and now, and look forward to my leftover pizza. Have a great Monday, and spare a thought for the people who literally died to make employment safer and more fair.