Labor Day 2015

From Marx and the Proletariat (Philosophy & Philosophers)

prōliˈte(ə)rēət/

noun

workers or working-class people, regarded collectively ."the growth of the industrial proletariat"

synonyms: the workers, working-class people, wage earners, the working classes, the common people, the lower classes, the masses, the rank and file, the third estate, the plebeians; the lumpen, the lumpenproletariat. derogatory: the hoi polloi, the plebs, the proles, the great unwashed, the mob, the rabble.

Labor Day, an annual celebration of workers and their achievements, originated during one of American labor history’s most dismal chapters. In the late 1800s, at the height of the Industrial Revolution in the United States, the average American worked 12-hour days and seven-day weeks in order to eke out a basic living. Despite restrictions in some states, children as young as 5 or 6 toiled in mills, factories and mines across the country, earning a fraction of their adult counterparts’ wages. People of all ages, particularly the very poor and recent immigrants, often faced extremely unsafe working conditions, with insufficient access to fresh air, sanitary facilities and breaks. Congress would not legalize the holiday until 12 years later, when a watershed moment in American labor history brought workers’ rights squarely into the public’s view. On May 11, 1894, employees of the Pullman Palace Car Company in Chicago went on strike to protest wage cuts and the firing of union representatives. On June 26, the American Railroad Union, led by Eugene V. Debs, called for a boycott of all Pullman railway cars, crippling railroad traffic nationwide. To break the strike, the federal government dispatched troops to Chicago, unleashing a wave of riots that resulted in the deaths of more than a dozen workers. In the wake of this massive unrest and in an attempt to repair ties with American workers, Congress passed an act making Labor Day a legal holiday in the District of Columbia and the territories. ~ from HISTORY.com

A Brief History of Labor day

This weekend—Labor Day Weekend—is the one time each year Americans celebrate the hoi polloi, the plebs, the proles, the great unwashed, the mob, the rabble. Sometime since the first Federally affirmed Labor Day, the meaning has been lost to picnics, beginning of school, a few parades, and lots of alcohol consumption.

For a lessening few, this is a time to remember and celebrate the working men and women of the United States. I suppose there are many ways to this; I rather prefer the music of the proletariat to any other way.

Woody Guthrie

 There are all sorts of songs: some are humorous; some are motivating; some celebrate heroes; some remember tragedies. Below are a few that I was able to locate as videos on the Internet: 

HUMOROUS: High Sheriff of Hazard (Tom Paxton)

MOTIVATING: Which Side Are You On (Pete Seeger)

Tragedies: Ludlow Massacre (Woody Guthrie)

HEROES: Joe Hill (sung by Paul Robeson)

That’s all for this Labor Day weekend post. If by chance you are interested in learning or hearing more, may I suggest:

The Irish have a lot of songs

Tá bheannaigh Lá Fhéile Pádraig, fiú má tá tú aon fhuil Gaeilge i agat

May you have a blessed Saint Patrick's Day. You may not have a drop of Irish blood running through your veins, but that isn't the point of this day! To me it celebrate the land an people of Ireland--their hopes, joys, struggles, loves, justice and freedom.   

The Irish have a lot of songs--a whole lot of songs...I shall let the music tell the story.

A Song for Ireland ~ Mary Black

A Song for Ireland

Walking all the day, near tall towers where falcons build their nests

Silver winged they fly, they know the call of freedom in their breasts

Soar Black Head against the sky, between the rocks that run down to the sea

Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets, asked for more

I stood by your Atlantic sea, and sang a song for Ireland

Talking all the day with true friends, who try to make you stay

Telling jokes and news, singing songs to pass the night away

Watched the Galway salmon run like silver dancing darting in the sun

Living on your western shore saw summer sunsets, asked for more

I stood by your Atlantic sea, and sang a song for Ireland

Drinking all the day in old pubs, where fiddlers love to play

Someone touched the bow, he played a reel, it seemed so fine and gay

Stood on Dingle beach and cast - in wild foam we found Atlantic Bass

Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets asked for more

I stood by your Atlantic sea, and sang a song for Ireland

Dreaming in the night, I saw a land where no man had to fight

Waking in your dawn, I saw you crying in the morning light

Lying where the Falcons fly, they twist and turn all in you e'er blue sky

Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets asked for more

I stood by your Atlantic sea, and I sang a song for Ireland

Gaelic song - Ar Éirinn Ní Neosfainn Cé Hí ~ Maria McCool 

May you have -
Walls for the wind
And a roof for the rain,
And drinks bedside the fire
Laughter to cheer you
And those you love near you,
And all that your heart may desire

~ A Gaelic Blessing 

Lord of the Dance ~ Michael Flatley

The Lord of the Dance

I danced in the morning when the world was young

I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun

I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth

At Bethlehem I had my birth

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the lord of the dance, said he

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees

They wouldn't dance, they wouldn't follow me

I danced for the fishermen James and John

They came with me so the dance went on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the lord of the dance, said he

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame

The holy people said it was a shame

They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high

Left me there on the cross to die

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the lord of the dance, said he

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced on a Friday when the world turned black

It's hard to dance with the devil on your back

They buried my body, they thought I was gone

But I am the dance, and the dance goes on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the lord of the dance, said he

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said he

They cut me down and I leapt up high

I am the life that will never, never die

I'll live in you if you'll live in me

I am the Lord of the dance, said he

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the lord of the dance, said he

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said he

Sunday Bloody Sunday ~ U2

 TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH BY THE FIRE
    ~ William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)


            WHILE I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,
            My heart would brim with dreams about the times
            When we bent down above the fading coals
            And talked of the dark folk who live in souls
            Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;
            And of the wayward twilight companies
            Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content,
            Because their blossoming dreams have never bent
            Under the fruit of evil and of good:
            And of the embattled flaming multitude
            Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame,
            And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name,
            And with the clashing of their sword-blades make
            A rapturous music, till the morning break
            And the white hush end all but the loud beat
            Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.

Four Green Fields ~ Tommy Makem 

Four Green Fields

'What did I have?' said the fine old woman

'What did I have?' this proud old woman did say

'I had four green fields, each one was a jewel

But strangers came and tried to take them from me

I had fine strong sons, they fought to save my jewels

They fought and died, and that was my grief' said she

'Long time ago' said the fine old woman

'Long time ago' this proud old woman did say

'There was war and death, plundering and pillage

My children starved by mountain valley and sea

And their wailing cries, they shook the very heavens

My four green fields ran red with their blood' said she

'What have I now?' said the fine old woman

'What have I now?' this proud old woman did say

'I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage

In stranger's hands, that tried to take it from me

But my sons have sons, as brave as were their fathers

My fourth green field will bloom once again' said she 

Finnegan's Wake ~ The Clancy Brother and Tommy Makem

from Finnegan's Wake ~ James Joyce

End here. Us then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thousandsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.

Irish Blessing

God bless you on this day of Saint Patrick! Enjoy! 
The Kitty Kids and I are.

Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the infinite peace to you.

Friday Funnies

Enjoy!