On paper, it’s a holiday that pays homage to the American
labor movement. Nevertheless, I’d venture to say that most of us aren’t giving
“labor” all that much thought on what is the unofficial ending of Summertime
2014. Summer’s “last gasp,” as it were, has mostly been about barbecues,
beaches, and beer.
I’ve attended a fair share of Labor Day events through the
years, and the differences between them and the month of May’s Memorial Day
festivities was always stark. After all, one national holiday signaled a beginning and
the other an ending—and an abrupt one at that. As a general rule, beginnings are more
celebratory than endings. Life is about both, I know, but Labor Day has the
unenviable task of marking the end of a lot of good times for a lot of people; the
gradual diminishing of daylight, too; and, from a school kid’s perspective, the
start of yet another protracted educational slog.
Although I’m long removed from my formal educational
odyssey, Labor Day—replete with the sun casting its signature autumnal
shadows—always brings me back to my youth. There was no more melancholic time
than this particular end. Or, to be technical, this non-celebratory beginning. Yes, the school year commencing with carefree summer
memories still seared on the brain—and vestiges, too, of the waning season’s
hot weather—was difficult to stomach. From my perspective, there was no worse
feeling than attending school in oppressive heat, which happened quite frequently in the month of September. Sans any air conditioning, school and
high temperatures were about as depressing a one-two punch as one could imagine.
Despite preferring the cooler climes of fall in my advancing
years, I still feel a little blue at this latest ending—one more summer in the books.
It’s a reminder of time’s passage, I guess. and for some of us, that we've experienced more summers than we've got left. In my Bronx high school, all boys were required to wear jackets and ties. We got to
forgo both sartorial expressions, though, in the month of September. This was the “freakin’ bone” tossed our way. It was intended, perhaps, to slightly lessen the pain in what was post-Labor Day culture shock. At least I don't have to attend high school orientation this coming week.
(Photo from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)
(Photo from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)
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