Labor Day, a Labor of Love

9am – I met up with a childhood friend and car/motorized-vehicle enthusiast. We hopped in a little red stick-shift convertible and zoomed off through quiet streets.

10am – Found us each on our backs, reverse-army crawling underneath our respective vehicles. We had made a date to give our cars a much needed oil change.

1030am – It felt good to be covered in oil and grease. Both of us held auto-mechanical work in slightly romanticized esteem, so we were happy to be up to the elbows, grunting and groaning as we worked.

1145am – I put down my tools and went to tune my old guitar in the Common House. Today was the first rehearsal of a neighborhood-wide intergenerational folk group and I wanted to be ready!

1215pm – About 25 people, from ages 5 to 75, were arrayed around the dining room of the Common House. Our fearless leader Kenyon was taking us all through a routine of bodily and melodic stretches to get us warm and loose.

1230pm – The group had already replaced some of the initial discordance with vibrating harmony, coursing through the room and all assembled. Kenyon gleamed with delight as we all started to unfurl our voices, no longer shy about our inadequacies!

1245pm – Kenyon brought the practice to a close after the group came together in a tight circle, to really feel the good vibes and rumbles radiating from each of our bodies. People smiled from ear to ear. The old felt young, and the young felt gold.

1pm – Labor day festivities had begun: the grill was sizzling, kids played, and the beer flowed. I was back at it, removing the oil filter on my van, Bessy.

130pm – I finished my dirty work and a mock cheer rose up from the small crowd that had assembled to watch, as they ate burgers and grilled vegetables.

2pm – I sat fat and happy, drink in hand, childhood friends and neighbors surrounding me. Kenyon roused me from repose with a Frisbee and we tossed the disc, reminding me of college days that now seemed distant.

3pm – I worked with my father, cutting boards and drilling holes; putting together a railing for our deck.

730pm – We cleaned up the work space and patted ourselves on the back: a job well done, father and son.

930pm – A childhood friend and I pondered everything from community gatherings, to transportation, to the future of relationships in the technological age.

1130pm – I read on my back, in my parents home, and drifted peacefully off to sleep…