Labor Day, 2021

Not for the first time, I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night and he told me to take Labor Day off.

Thanks, Joe!

But before I take that day off, here's to all those who've been at the frontlines of the pandemic. The doctors and nurses, especially those in the ERs and ICUs packed with covid patients. And to all the other medical personnel that support them, and the non-medical hospital personnel as well - those who clean the floors, empty the bed pans, cook the grub, staff the cafs. To those who work in other healthcare facilities - short term rehab, assisted living, long-term care. 

Here's to the doctors and nurses and those staffing the doctors' offices who are still seeing patients, even though half those appointments are virtual.

To the pharmacists. To those who staff the vax sites. 

To the cops, firefighters, and EMTs who don't get to work from home.

To the transpo workers - on planes, trains, boats, and buses.

To the retail workers who can't work from home, either. And to those who work in restaurants and fast food joints. To the small business owners, especially those in areas where they counted on the custom of white collar professionals to keep them going - and who are finding out that those lucky work-from-homers may not be coming back until November. Or January. Or never. 

Ditto for the hotels and all their workers. 

Here's to the Uber and Lyft drivers. 

Here's to the teachers, especially those working in districts where they're getting attacked by out-of-control parents because they want the kids to wear masks.

Here's to the mail carriers, the Post Office employees, the trash collectors, the street cleaners, the folks who work in our parks.

And here's to the union workers, and the union organizers (especially my amazing now-retired brother Stick.) Solidarity forever!

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me.
Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead”
“I never died” says he,
“I never died” says he.

“In Salt Lake City, Joe,” says I,
Him standing by my bed,
“They framed you on a murder charge,”
Says Joe, “But I ain’t dead,”
Says Joe, “But I ain’t dead.”

“The Copper Bosses killed you Joe,
they shot you Joe” says I.
“Takes more than guns to kill a man”
Says Joe “I didn’t die”
Says Joe “I didn’t die”

And standing there as big as life
and smiling with his eyes.
Says Joe “What they can never kill
went on to organize,
went on to organize”

From San Diego up to Maine,
in every mine and mill,
Where workers strike and organize
it’s there you’ll find Joe Hill,
it’s there you’ll find Joe Hill!

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me.
Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead”
“I never died” says he,
“I never died” says he.
“I never died” says he.

But I'm not going to end with Joe Hill. I'll leave the last word to Mother Jones, whose family fled the Irish Famine, and who became one of the great early union organizers: 

“Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.”