I Washed My Face In The Morning Dew

Last week laying out an access panel in the governor's ceiling I was thinking about Malcolm's post awhile ago. I was also caught up in thinking about SS's post which I quoted in my last post. This kind of thing is nothing new to me. When I used to work nights on the highway I would infuriate the boom truck driver by getting lost in thought while we were hanging signs at the intersections (but he was an asshole so it was okay). It's odd that though regardless of whether I blog these thoughts they are still in my head (which is actually why I blog, to get them out). I was trying to explain to my grandma after I got posted on Slugger what it was all about. Her reply was to shake her head, wave her hands at and to tell me, "you think too much" (though she's right on that one).

The point being that while I'm extremely difficult to satisfy on one level (just ask my political director) I'm very easy to make happy. Such happiness was achieved this weekend after a visit to the future in-laws in Cripple Creek. A cold Budweiser in the can and a decent cigar go along way to making me a content man. Throw in my fiance, a nice fire and the natural beauty that is Colorado to do the rest. We all know that many song writers have written about the majestic beauty in the state here and here, not to mention songs of a more regional variety.

At times it is tempting to let it go at that but this weekend I was reminded of the absolutely astonishing and humbling beauty that is Colorado. After a thunderstorm I went out on the back porch to finish my beer and smoke my after dinner cigar. While standing under the awning I was near enough to the bird feeder to be able to reach and touch (had I had the urge to) the numerous humming birds that were fighting over who would get to feed at that particular bird feeder. I vacillated between staring at them and gazing at nothing in particular in the green aspen grove surrounding the house while enjoying the scent of a fresh rain.

Today as I drove back through town on the way home I was reminded of why "Misanthropy" is the leading word of this blog. It is not necessarily an H.L. Mencken misanthropy, but a latter day Joseph Roth misanthropy.

Recently a post over at Cedar Lounge brought me back to my roots so to speak. I was originally and will continue to be a labor man. So as I drove through Cripple Creek with that post fresh in my head it saddened me to see that casinos lined the streets and that the biggest event that weekend was the county fair (ie a 4H booster). Not that I have anything in particular against 4H, but anyone who has spent any amount of time shovelling bovine shit by the truck full will be necessarily wary of any kind of agrarian organization.

Actually what had set this train of thought off was a dinner for my aunt when we finally brought her pictures from my European trip in December/January (which actually gave me the title of this blog). One of the pictures was of the quotes on the James Larkin statue.

And Tyranny trampled them in Dublin's gutter

Until Jim Larkin came along and cried

The call of Freedom and the call of Pride

And Slavery crept to its hands and knees

And Nineteen Thirteen cheered from out the utter

Degradation of their miseries.

Now my aunt is not what I would call a pro-union person. This is because at the phone company (where my whole family worked) a union official told her she made too much money for a woman. At which point she moved virulently to the other end of the labor spectrum. Though after reading the quotes she was, never the less moved. I too was moved because truer words were never spoken. I remain firm in my belief that the cause of labor is the hope of humanity. This is in spite of today's unions and numerous "Labor" parties that exist throughout the world.

For us there must be more than Project Labor Agreements, wages, benefits and a good ole boy club to which we can join. There must be an over arching movement that seeks to raise the bar for humanity that we may all enjoy the fruits of liberty and freedom and dignity. Not in some shallow sense about donning a uniform and going over seas, but in our own homes and communities, where we have sunk our roots. This is cliche but true. This is the cause of labor, the elevation of men from expendable machines and cost codes into fully formed beings capable of not only seizing their destiny but of shaping the course of history through their determination not to be bought off or intimidated in their quest for a more just humanity. I'm ranting I know, but this is what motivates me to pay unions dues, not my wages or benefits (which suck thank you very much).

Well it's late and 4:00am will come all too shortly. For anyone more interested in the roots of my mania, I recommend as a starting point this piece as well as these various books. Again as a starting point.