Back in the 60s I was the only I knew in our family who thought taking pictures was fun, lol!
’Course, it was a messy and, for us, an expensive “thing” – one had to choose carefully which pics to shoot. Or I should say “try” and shoot, ie, capture 😊
It was simply too much work for most folks. They had other things to do with their time and money, and in my family and neighborhood that meant working long hours, both domestically and outside the home.
My mom, I remember, was so grateful to have an indoor bathtub to hand wash our clothes in.
My dad disappeared before sunrise and returned at dusk to a meal my mom had worked on for several hours, filling the house with the smells so good of food cooking my brothers and sisters (I was the oldest) had to be cautioned and restrained to leave enough for Dad 💕
And my parents knew they had it good.
A house they paid for monthly directly to the previous owners, no bank in its right mind able or willing to lend to semi-skilled laborers with “family” to also feed. They, my mom and dad, were grateful they hadn’t had to raise six kids as a single parent during the depression (my dad’s mom), or pray there’d be enough rain to feed the animals that fed them (my mom’s parents).
So yes, today, in our virus wrung culture, it is hard, it is tough, or it’s definitely not easy.
But we all labor on, in the day and age we are in.
In fields and stores and cubicles.
As citizens or soldiers, nurses and teachers, scientists and artists.
Yes 😊 artists.
And if we don’t labor on, gladly or not –
Then we haven’t yet found what’s best in our hearts to drive us, all of us, on this earth, forward another day, another night, another sunrise and sunset, another meal with people we may or may not know, another song we can sing alone or with others.
Labor is what we do to survive.
A labor of love is what we do to truly live ❤️
Happy Labor Day everyone!
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Thanks again, everyone! 😊
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