“Work spares us from three evils: boredom, vice, and need.” -- Voltaire
It’s another Labor Day. Most of us think of the holiday as the demarcation line on the calendar marking the end of summer, our last chance at a warm weather barbecue or swim, or just that much-needed day off from work. On this day honoring “the economic and social contributions of American workers,” I’m thinking of what it is to “labor.” I’m thinking of the many unemployed who don’t currently have the opportunity to serve the nation, their families, or themselves through a simple thing we probably always took for granted: a job.
Since the age of 14, I’ve earned some kind of paycheck. I’ve been a summer camp counselor, a department store cashier, a library page, a photography school intern, a girl Friday for a filmmaking foundation. In college I juggled classes with Boston gigs as a writing tutor, a retail store clerk, a hospital assistant, a publishing company researcher, and a program assistant at the Cambridge YWCA. I’ve done stints selling the New York Times over the phone, typing reports for a labor union, placing college students in summer jobs, and serving as a public information officer for the New York City Housing Authority.
The bulk of my career is notable, however, for the many years I worked at what I love: writing and editing. I was a secretary then a book production editor at an educational publisher before moving on to become an editor and writer for Essence and then Billboard. Because of my positions, I got to meet a wide number of people, many of them celebrities, I got to travel across the country and sometimes outside of it; I got the opportunity to speak before large gatherings and even on TV; earned some acclaim for my work; but most importantly I got to enjoy the thrill every writer dreams of: seeing my byline in print. It wasn’t all roses, though. I worked long hours, made big mistakes, skirted deadlines, sweated bullets, cried bitter tears, lost sleep, gained weight, strained relationships, feuded with coworkers and bosses, made bad choices and sometimes made enemies. They say “find a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life,” but even work we love has its price. When I briefly moved from publishing to record labels – first as a product manager and then as a publicist -- I was completely out of my depth, awash in unfamiliar details and insecurity, and woke up to find myself on the West Coast. Thanks to networking connections, I was able to go back to writing and editing for several more years.
"Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.” - Camus
I’ve been fortunate. The work of I’ve done is certainly not essential to anyone’s survival. We reminded each other often: “It’s not rocket science” or “It’s not brain surgery.” I’ve never done any manual labor, never served or prepared food, never had to rely on physical strength nor held anyone’s life in my hands (OK, some recording artists may have thought I did). I deeply admire those who work makes the rest of our lives easier and/or safer: military, police, firefighters, sanitation workers, food service personnel, farmers, miners, construction workers, postal employees, school teachers. I am grateful for them.
There are also millions of people laboring away at jobs they despise, with people they abhor, for insulting paychecks, for minimal or no benefits. But work is work. Right now there are millions of people with no job at all who would willingly take on the burden of a hateful gig.
Because I’ve been fortunate enough to work in a career I love, I’ve been spoiled. I’ve long adhered to the notion that I am supposed to do what I love and nothing else will do. Until recently I also had the idea that I could always get a job. I am forced to rethink these notions after seeing both the publishing and music industries implode and reinvent themselves on smaller scales. Like most of America during this economic downturn, I have to reform my idea of “labor.”
“We have too many people who live without working, and we have altogether too many people who work without living.” –Charles Reynolds Brown
I still have a vision of being paid for doing the work I love and am best qualified to do. I recently left a job that provided a lot of new challenges and experience in favor of this dream. A hard economy can cause such dreams to wither and die, but I'm not giving up. If you have a job, you are lucky. If you have a career, you are blessed. If you have a dream keep dreaming. Your dream is a labor of love, the key to your most productive self. And that is worth celebrating on Labor Day.
