Tag Archives: labor

Chavez Chaos

A statue of United Farm Workers union co-founder Cesar Chavez stands at Cesar Chavez Park at a Cesar Chavez Commemorative in Phoenix, Arizona. Photo by Erica Stapleton

People of Spanish ancestry have a long history here in the United States.  Spaniards made the first permanent European settlement in what would become the U.S. and had reached the Pacific coast before the arrival of their English and French counterparts.  Unlike the English and French, however, Spanish colonizers generally didn’t view the indigenous peoples of the Americas as obtuse savages. 

Despite this extensive heritage, Hispanics have often been left out of American history and – as a result – we’ve had few heroic figures in mainstream literature and news.  One noteworthy individual, however, is the late César Chavez.

Born in Arizona in 1927, Chavez joined his parents and other family members in one of the most strenuous of jobs: crop-picking.  It’s an industry that’s inherently fickle and strenuous.  It can also be unforgiving, especially during Chavez’s youth.  His family moved frequently, barely surviving each year, and eventually settled in California.  After a brief stint in the U.S. Navy, Chavez returned home and to the fields of various crops…where things hadn’t changed much.  Sometime in the late 1950s Chavez’s frustration with the farming business metamorphosed into political action and, in 1960, he led a gallery of farmworkers in creating the National Farm Worker Association, which sought to improve working conditions for people who toiled in farming.  They demanded higher pay and better working conditions.  Most farmworkers were non-White, but regardless of race or ethnicity, all worked hard to feed American families, as they struggled to care for their own.

After his death in 1993, a number of communities across the Southeastern U.S. named, or renamed, schools and streets after Chavez.  It was homage to a common man who understood the struggles of average working people – even if others didn’t understand or appreciate it.

One night around 1996, I was driving through East Dallas with a friend, when we passed an elementary school recently with Chavez’s name broadly displayed across the front.

“What do they teach there?!” my friend exclaimed, before adding something about picking fruits and vegetables.

In the midst of a busy urban thoroughfare, I literally slammed on the brakes of my truck and yelled back, “What the fuck that’s supposed to mean?!”

My friend is a little more than a decade older than me and was born and raised in what he and his sister called “LA” – Lower Alabama.  He’s a true southerner who likes boiled peanuts and fried green tomatoes – two foods I’ve purposefully avoided.  He’s also somewhat of a Confederate loyalist and would get annoyed when I said the Confederate Army were traitors to the United States.

“Now, you’re making fun of my heritage,” he once told me.

So I guess – with the Chavez vegetable quip – we were even.

One of the people who helped Chavez organize his movement was Dolores Huerta.  A New México native, Huerta, like Chavez, had worked in the farming trade and personally witnessed the mistreatment of its workers.

Now – more than three decades after the death of Chavez – Huerta has turned against him.  In a recent stunning admission, Huerta claims Chavez raped her twice in the 1960s; impregnating her both times.  She carried each pregnancy to term and gave up the babies to other families.  She says she didn’t come forward years earlier for a number of personal reasons; in part because no one openly discussed sexual assault at the time of the alleged offenses, but also because she didn’t want to undermine the mission of the farmworkers coalition.  At the age of 95, Huerta really has nothing to lose.

Who’s going to call her a liar?

Now everything Chavez did has come under scrutiny.  Almost overnight he has become the Bill Cosby of the Hispanic community – a man revered for decades as a leader and humanitarian whose reputation has come into question.  The primary difference, of course, is that Chavez wasn’t an actor or a comedian and he’s now dead.

Last Tuesday, March 31, would have been Chavez’s 99th birthday.  Communities across the Southwestern U.S. have been celebrating it as a venerable holiday.  Many Hispanics have been demanding an official federal holiday (akin to Martin Luther King) be established to honor Chavez.

Recently Texas Governor Greg Abbott ordered the state NOT to recognize Chavez on March 31.  It’s interesting – hypocritical actually – considering that Abbott and other Republican officials were reticent to disavow allegiance to Confederate soldiers – a group that wanted to divide the nation over the issue of slavery.  Many conservatives argued vehemently against removing monuments to the Civil War Confederacy, but are now quick to obliterate anything honoring Chavez.

More than a quarter of the way into the 21st century, we’re still dealing with this shit.

So what to do now?

I’m publishing this essay on April 4, 2026 – the 58th anniversary of the assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.  King had always asked people to be judged on the “content of their character”.  That’s not just a bit of poetic verbiage.  It’s actually a sensible practice.

Yet, how much character can overcome egregious behavior?  Behavior that occurred years ago.

I simply don’t know.  The chaos surrounding Chavez’s legacy has been set in motion and won’t die down anytime soon.

As always we have to keep moving forward.

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And the Madness Begins – Again!

Once more, political divisions have caused the U.S. Congress to shut down the government.  Sigh…again?!  Ever wonder if a long-running TV show will ever have its final season?

I’m not a federal worker, but my current role relies on the U.S. government functioning at full capacity.  Or at least at a rational level.  Then again, that may be too much to ask in the current environment.

Gosh, I hate to interrupt someone during their nap!

While literally thousands of people across the nation have found themselves on a reluctant furlough, members of Congress, along with the president and vice-president, are still getting paid.  Of course, they rarely suffer whenever such indignities befall the average peon.  Having lived in a gilded cage most of his life, Donald Trump can’t feel that kind of pain – certainly not with the support of his blind faithful.

The shutdown has entered its first full week, and – as usual – the finger-pointing has been rampant.  I’m almost afraid some of those fools will put their hands in traction!

I don’t care if any of them get hurt, though.  They’re not worth the trouble.  But Congress is as politically divided as the nation.  Trump bears a great deal of responsibility for that chaos.  He made it cool for some people to be hateful and bigoted.  Yes, he’s taking America back – back to a time when only people who looked like him held the bulk of the country’s power and money.

But the nation has been growing divided for decades now.  Technically I believe it started with the Watergate fiasco, but worsened the moment Bill Clinton first announced his run for the presidency.  It only intensified after the turn of the century.

Thousands of federal workers are now not getting paid.  That includes active duty military personnel; even those stationed overseas.  But Trump has done the right thing in that case and ordered that they continue getting paidAir traffic controllers also aren’t getting paid, but are being forced to work, as they are considered essential employees.  Many, however, are calling in sick.  They learned their lesson more than four decades ago.  In 1980 the Air Traffic Controllers Union was the only labor group in the U.S. to support Ronald Reagan’s presidential campaign.  The following year they went through on their threats to strike – demanding better pay, updated equipment and more controllers.  And then Reagan fired 11,000 of them.  Needless to say that was the last time any work union in the U.S. supported a Republican for the presidency.

Even though things look okay for me now, I’m still concerned.  The government agency my company contracts with has been the target of many public officials, especially Republicans.  Trump, however, has issued another threat.  He’s promised to terminate a number of federal associates and says that, when the government reopens, he’ll make sure they don’t get any back pay – which has always happened in the past.

Personally I think it would be great if every essential employee doesn’t show up for their job.  I mean EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!  That’s not likely, however, but I’d love to see how these sanctimonious Republicans would respond.

In the meantime, average taxpaying, law-abiding citizen will continue to feel the adverse effects of this morass.  It’s a never-ending cycle of incompetence in the highest levels of the political universe.

Image: Gary Larson

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Labor Day 2025

“Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change – this is the rhythm of living. Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope. And out of hope, progress.”

Bruce Barton

Image: John Darkow

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Happy Labor Day 2024!

“It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Happy Labor Day 2023

“The only place success comes before work is the dictionary.”

Vince Lombardi

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Swinging

As Labor Day fast approaches here in the U.S., I’m happy to point out that I recently started a new job; a full-time position with a firm that does a great deal of government contract work.  And, if you know anything about the U.S. federal government, there’s a lot of work to be done!  It’s similar to the kind of work I did with an engineering company more than a decade ago.

Yes, that’s me in the scary unretouched photo above – slaving away over a hot keyboard and fighting spreadsheet eyes.  Although my company has a local office, they switched to remote work at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic three years ago and have found that it seems to be the best functional model for everyone.  So I get to sit at a desk in my home bare-chested and in gym shorts shuffling through a myriad of digital documents.  As a devout introvert, it’s a utopian environment for me.

It’s especially ironic in that I’ll be 60 in some two months – and finding a job at this point in life is challenging for anyone.  I’d been doing contract and freelance work since 2010, so it’s quite a change.  But welcome nonetheless.  Yes, it’d be great if my debut novel (or any future novel) could be sold to a motion picture company for X amount – preferably in the seven figure range – that would be extraordinary.  But I know how unlikely that is.  I’m not naïve.

I listen carefully to close friends and fellow bloggers as they vent about their own struggles to get from one point to another in the working world.  One friend lives in the Los Angeles area and works for a major television network.  He studied filmmaking and screenwriting at New York University in the 1990s and is witnessing – and feeling – the impact of the ongoing writers’ and actors’ strikes firsthand.  I commented a while back about his education.  “A lot of good that did me!” he replied.  I often felt the same, as I struggled over the past decade to find work.  I kept relying upon that degree in English I finally earned.  What good has it done? I asked myself more than a few times.  But I’m still proud of it.

My father was essentially forced to retire shortly after turning 62 in 1995.  When he called the local Social Security office to apply for his benefits, the clerk stated (almost sarcastically), “I guess you want your money now.”  My father answered, “You’re damn right I do!”  In the middle of one day several years ago he decided on a whim to have a glass of wine.  One of my uncles lives alone in a neighboring suburb with a cat and once told me, “I’m happy to sit around on my fat ass and watch TV all day!”  Aside from a brief stint in the U.S. Army in the 1960s, he worked in warehouses most of his life.  Like my father, he did hard labor – donkey-type work; the kind that wears out people quickly.

Other people, like my mother, did white-collar work – the kind that wears on the mind.  I don’t know what’s worse – mental or physical exhaustion.  I suppose they’re equally stressful.

Regardless I’m back in the swing of things with the labor force.  I actually enjoy what I’m doing – mainly because I’m doing it from home and can sit around bare-chested while listening to music such as this.  It helps fight those spreadsheet eyes.

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Spent

Last November, for my 59th birthday, I met a long-time friend, Preston*, at my gym.  For years I made it a habit to visit my gym on my birthday.  Even though I’ve changed gyms over the years, I hadn’t been to a gym on my birthday since 2019.  So this was a refreshing change.  Preston had turned 55 the previous July and – as we conversed about life and related topics – the subject of retirement arose.  Like me (and millions of others across the globe), Preston has worked most of his adult life.  He did what’s expected of so many people – especially men – in our society: he attended college, found a good job, got married and had kids.  His wife went on maternity leave shortly before giving birth to their daughter some two decades ago and never returned to work.  Thus, Preston – like millions of men – continued working.

Prior to meeting at my gym last November he’d said something that surprised me, yet to which I could relate.  “I’m tired of working so hard.”

It was ironic because the same feelings had been rumbling around in my mind over the previous months.  An uncle told me he’d retired in 2002 at the age of 62 simply because he was tired of working.  Even though he didn’t get the most out of his Social Security, he simply had become weary of the labor grind and therefore, was willing to take the risk of living a more modest life.

My father had essentially been forced to retire at 62 in 1995, but my mother managed to retire at 70 in 2003.  My folks managed to make the most of their golden years – my father dived full-time into genealogical research, and my mother spent hours reading and doing crossword puzzles.  They didn’t travel or go out dancing; they didn’t join any clubs to make a bevy of new friends.  They spent their remaining time on Earth living simply and quietly.

Whenever it’s my turn to retire, I’m certain I’ll spend my time doing what I love to do: reading and writing.  I’d love to travel, but that’s still a dream.

Right now I’m trying desperately to find a job within my chosen profession – technical writing – but I’m not having much luck.  Since the first of this year I have literally applied to more than 100 jobs.  If I actually receive a response, it’s usually a no or the position has been closed.  And even those are rare.  In the state of Texas, the unemployment rate is roughly 4%, lower than most anywhere else in the country.  I’m starting to get the impression my age is a factor.  A friend tells me I’m just being paranoid, but I know age discrimination – though illegal – is a reality in the American work force.

But right now the U.S. government is mired in an impasse over the debt limit.  As usual it’s a battle between political ideologies, and neither side seems willing to concede.  And, as usual, average Americans like The Chief are caught in the mud fight.

I don’t need a palatial beachfront estate with a 6-car garage to be happy.  I don’t need billions in stock or hard cash to feel content.  I just need to make a basic and decent living.  My freelance writing fell flat after the COVID-19 pandemic and hasn’t recovered.  A friend suggested I try to be an Uber driver, but I don’t have a 4-door vehicle and I’m bad at directions.  I think I’m too old for porn, so I won’t even try – again.  Yet I’m not too proud to work and don’t like being idle anyway.

Yet I have to concede I’m tired.  Decades ago I recall my father saying he no longer really cared for being praised for his work; he wanted to be rewarded monetarily.  The bank where I used to work often gave out perfect attendance awards and various other accolades that ultimately weren’t worth the paper on which they were printed.  Now I know what my father meant.

*Name changed.

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Labor Day 2022

“Hard work never killed anybody, but why take a chance?”

Edgar Bergen

Image: Loose Parts

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Political Cartoon of the Week – February 5, 2022

Khalil Bendib

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Labor Day 2021

“Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.”

J. M. Barrie

Image: Modern Toss, New Scientist

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