Labor Day

Today is Labor Day. It is the unofficial ending of summer. The meaning of Labor Day has changed for me as I've grown from child to adult, but it has always been a benchmark on the calendar. I love the coolness in the air, the crispness that surrounds you with fall. I know Spring is a time of awakening, but for me, fall is when everything feels fresh and new and wonderful.

When we were kids, Labor Day meant the beginning of school. Schools in NY start after Labor Day. Most start the Wednesday after, but some go back on Tuesday. So Labor Day meant school was starting. Which for me, was a wonderful thing. I loved being in school, loved learning. I loved stocking my new backpack with new school supplies. Covering my books with brown paper bags, so clean and fresh. As the school year wore on, the book covers were covered with doodles, and then slowly tore apart. Notebooks get bent, pens run out of ink. It's not fun shopping for notebooks in January or April; but I loved it in August. The new school year also meant we could start wearing the new clothes we'd picked out months ago, and then forgotten while they were on Layaway at Penney's all summer. We'd come home from school and change into our 'play clothes' (which were probably last year's school clothes). Soon you've worn all your new outfits, they lose their luster, and before you know it, you are running outside to jump in piles of leaves in these same clothes.

Labor Day was also a time to go to the county fair-another sign summer was winding down. Some years we would go to our fair and the Columbia County fair (which is the county south of Rensselaer county). The fairs were ok. Dad always enjoyed looking at the fire trucks, or the antique tractors. I liked to look at the crafts. We had friends in 4H, so we would look at the animals too. Last year I had really been missing it, so when I was home in September, I went to the fair. And realized I wasn't really missing much. It was hot, dusty, and fly infested. We were there on the day of tractor pulls, and the noise made it feel like your eardrums were going to bleed. We had Sydney, who wanted to see the animals and eagerly went into the barns. Until she saw how BIG the animals were compared to her, and then she jumped into my arms screaming. It was a long afternoon. I realized, I'm not really a fair person. But growing up, we went almost every year.

Labor Day also meant the dreaded family party. My Grandpa Primeau always had a huge family get together at his house. One year there were over 300 people attending! Anybody and everybody was invited. I dreaded it because there were so many people. I have never liked crowds, and I get very shy- even around family. It was a day long affair at Grandpa's. The Canadian relatives would come down for the weekend and camp in Grandpa's yard. There were always kegs of beer on tap, and soda for the kids. Grandpa had a hot dog steamer, and he would put Charlie Hot Dogs & buns in it, and we'd have those all afternoon long. That was one of my favorite parts. There were people playing horseshoes, and I think in later years we had a volleyball net, which I enjoyed. A group of people could always be found sitting in the basement around the poker table. They played poker, and probably Pinochle as it seems everyone in the family plays that. There was a pinata for the kids. The youngest kids got to hit first, but it usually didn't last long enough for the oldest kids to get a hit. I seem to remember games for kids, but doubt I participated much. As I said, I get extremely shy in crowds. I have 13 first cousins. The oldest six are close in age-there are a little over three years between my oldest cousin Terri, and the youngest of the first six, Dawn. I am two years younger than Dawn, next in line is Laura, my sister, who is 2 1/2 years younger than I am. Keith is a year younger than Laura, and he's really the oldest of the younger kids. The seven youngest kids are 7 years apart. So when I was a pre-teen, I was too young to hang with the older kids who were in high school. And I was too old to play with the little ones, who were still interested in playing things like Tag. We also lived about 20 minutes away from most of the family, and didn't see our cousins often. We weren't close (although as adults, several of us have become close, and I am so fortunate to count some of my cousins among my friends.) So I took books. We took board games too. I sat and talked to Grandma & Grandpa's friends. No doubt some people thought I was a snob. When I was in junior high, we started bringing friends. I remember the first time I took a friend with me, and was introducing her to my Grandma. I didn't know what she should call my Grandma, because she called my mom 'Mrs. Primeau'. Grandma said 'Just call me Grandma, everyone does!' It is one of my favorite memories of Grandma.

All day, a steamship round of beef would be cooking in the middle of the driveway. We ate at 5pm. So around 4 or so the women would get up and start getting things ready. Several tables would be set up in a long line under the deck. We would put plates and silverware on one end, then line up the food (everyone brought something). The men would slice the beef and put it in big aluminum pans. At 5pm, someone (probably Grandpa) would yell something to the effect of 'Let's Eat!' and then there was a mob of people lining up to get food. Which is funny, because all day long we'd all been snacking on Charlie Hot Dogs, sausage & peppers, and corn on the cob. After everyone had been through the line, and had their fill of food, the women would pick up and then bring out the desserts. The only time I've seen more desserts is at a church picnic. After we picked up from dessert, it would be almost dark. The pit where the steamship round cooked would become our camp fire. The guys would get the fire rolling and putting off quite a bit of heat, and then we roasted marshmallows. I enjoyed that part. It was just about the quietest part of the day.

At Hanover, classes started on Labor Day. So Labor Day signaled the start of school for me until I was 21. Dad hated it that we moved in on Labor Day weekend, and graduation was Memorial Day weekend- which meant we were on the road moving me in or out of dorms on two of the busiest weekends of the year.

In the past few years, Labor Day has come to mean a three day weekend-something that is rare in the 40 hour work week. I savor that extra day. It is delicious to sit here on Sunday night and realize that I get a bonus day the following day. It was luxurious to sleep until 10 am on a Monday morning. And it is refreshing that as I sit here, dreading the work week in front of me, I know it is only four days.

Four years ago, Labor Day took on a new meaning in our family. It means it is Sydney's birthday! Her birthday is September 5. She was born the day after Labor Day, and next year her birthday will be Labor Day. Of course, her birthday will fall on Labor Day many times. So even though I haven't stepped into a classroom in 13 Septembers, Labor Day remains a time of new beginnings.