Every Labor Day, I always thought about Nebraska because that is where I learned what real physical labor entails. The farms, where from dawn to dusk is made up of very hard physical work, where I spent weekends during the seventies. Their payoff for that labor wasn’t millions in the bank, but just enough to face another growing season, or generation of new livestock. Or, at least that is what it used to mean when I was there, when there were small farms, family farms, that had been there for generations. The payoff for them was a love and responsibility to work the land. To caretake it. To pass it proudly down to the next generation. That’s the Labor Day Nebraska that has always been in my mind on this weekend over the years.
Oh, Chris--This one is a masterpiece. Thank you for writing this and thank you for being you!
Love, Jamie