I spent Monday, Labor Day, like most people: cooking burgers, relaxing with the family a bit, and worrying what my desk would look like Tuesday morning after a day off. There wasn’t much thought of “those who labor and are heavy laden” amid my heartburn and the advertisements for new mattresses.
But I was raised in a labor town, raised alongside the children of those who toiled for an international company, Alcoa, before it closed its local operations. So laborers are never far from my thoughts.
Though oblivious to it as a child, company versus labor was always hanging over our town, through talk of steelworker strikes and the company’s constant threats of shutting down local operations.
The workers were the underdogs. And in our family, we were taught to: 1) care for those less fortunate, and 2) root for the underdogs.