In politics, the term "workers" carries connotations of unions, strikes, and Marxism; in short, left-wing politics. It's thought that the honorable working class and their unions are typically Democrats and their rich, manipulative managers are Republicans. I've always disagreed with that interpretation. Unions are Democrat, sure, and Republicans typically aspire to (and often achieve) financial success in business. While unions represent a centralizing authority contrary to the principles of American conservatism, individual workers doing good work for the best pay they can negotiate is a standard conservatives are happy to bare.
In the recent Tea Party sponsored walk on Washington, many present stated they had never been away from work to protest before - these were right-wing workers, protesting an increasing tax burden and pay decreased by inflation. At the other end of the modern political spectrum is President Obama, who hopes students are "aspiring to be scientists and engineers, doctors and teachers, not just ballers and rappers." [ABC News/NAACP speech] That's fine and good (I fully support the part about ballers and rappers), but he ostentatiously ignores workers.
Isn't it a valid dream to make sweet motorbikes or fine watches or kickin' computers? Isn't it honorable to be able to drive past a beautiful building and say "I did that brickwork."? Is there no respect for the men and women who make the bulk of the economic engine of which Americans are so proud run and run well? Personally, I see a blue-collar beauty to that kind of work. Men with black grease on their calloused hands and torn overalls make the rest of our lifestyles possible. And their lifestyles aren't so bad, either; more plumbers own their own yacht than scientists or professors do.
But my respect for the great Skilled Worker leaves me pretty unique in modern politcs -- or so I thought. Turns out I have a kindred spirit from the cast of Cheers: John Ratzenberger runs a non-profit organization called Nuts, Bolts, and Thingamajigs that seeks to bring back the American manufacturer as a figure of honor and prominence; to, as they say, "to nurture the tinkering spirit". If the name Ratzenberger doesn't ring a bell, think of Cliff Clavin of Cheers, the piggybank in Toy Story, or the timeless line "Don't worry; it's lemon!" from Monster's Inc. The perennial everyman of Cheers, it turns out, is an advocate of the worker in the real world, too.
And more power too him! May the independent tradesman flourish!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
And now for something completely different...
I offer you the story of Weird Harold:
Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved her Grandpa and Grandma very much. Late one night, Grandpa came to visit, and she was so excited to see him she couldn't sleep. Grandpa asked, "If I tell you a story will you go to sleep like a good girl?"
"Well... okay," the girl said, "But it better be a good story."
Grandpa chuckled. "I'll tell the best story I have, the story of Weird Harold." It went like this:
"Do you know what was in the old coffee can?" Grandpa asked the little girl.
The little girl didn't answer. Grandpa reached into his pocket and pulled out a pebble. It was a different kind of pebble. It was shiny and clear and very pale blue, like the sky. It was beautiful. The little girl said very quietly, "It's the Princess!"
"Yes, it is," said Grandpa. "I want you to keep it. You can be the good dragon and protect it from evil knights. You can remember the story of Weird Harold. Maybe it'll make you happy." It was quiet for a long time.
"It already makes me happy," said the little girl. "It's a good story."
Grandpa chuckled. "Then it's time to go to sleep like a good little girl." He tucked her in. He kissed her on the forehead. He started to leave.
The little girl said, "Goodnight, Grandpa Harold. I love you."
Grandpa turned and smiled. "I love you, too, little Jill. You know, you look just like your Grandma Jill when she was your age." It was quiet for a long time. Then he left.
A few days later, little Jill went back to school. When the children went to play on the blacktop at recess, Jill didn't play with the other children. She didn't play on the swings or on the kickball diamond. She walked in lazy circles on the blacktop. Sometimes she'd pick up a pebble. Sometimes she'd put one down just so. If someone invited her to play regular games, she'd growl at them and chase them away. Someone called her Weird Jill. Jill was happy with that.
THE END
Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved her Grandpa and Grandma very much. Late one night, Grandpa came to visit, and she was so excited to see him she couldn't sleep. Grandpa asked, "If I tell you a story will you go to sleep like a good girl?"
"Well... okay," the girl said, "But it better be a good story."
Grandpa chuckled. "I'll tell the best story I have, the story of Weird Harold." It went like this:
When the children went to play on the blacktop at recess, they never played with Harold. He didn't play on the swings or at the kickball diamond. He would always walk in lazy circles by himself. Sometimes he would pick up a pebble. Sometimes he would put one down just so. Sometimes he would just stand and look at them. It didn't look like any fun. If someone invited him to play regular games, Harold would growl at them and chase them away. It was weird. So they called him Weird Harold.
Harold was happy with that. He liked to play alone with his many small pebbles.
One day, a quiet little girl from Weird Harold's class sat and watched Weird Harold. She watched as he walked in lazy circles. She watched as he stopped to pick up a pebble. She watched later as he stopped to put it down with a lot of other pebbles. When he walked away to find more, she took a step closer so she could see the pebbles. Then another step. The pebbles weren't just put anywhere. They were put just so, in a little square with circles at the corners.
"Are you going to ask me to come play with you?" It was Weird Harold. The quiet little girl didn't notice that he'd come up behind her. She didn't say anything. It was quiet for a long time.
Harold asked, "What's your name?" The quiet little girl didn't answer. It was quiet for a long time.
"Okay. You can watch," said Weird Harold. He put another pebble on the blacktop with the others. He stood up and looked around. None of the other children were paying him any attention except the quiet little girl. Weird Harold was glad about that. It was quiet for a long time.
He took another pebble out of his pocket. It was a different kind of pebble. It was shiny and clear and very pale blue, like the sky. It was beautiful. He put the beautiful pebble with the others. He put it alone inside the square. Then he stood still and looked at it for a long time. He looked around for other children again, but they weren't paying him any attention. Except for the quiet little girl.
Harold turned to the quiet little girl. "This one is the Princess," he told her. "She lives in her castle. Evil knights come to steal away her beauty and make her boring like all the other pebbles. I'm the good dragon. I protect her. When evil knights come, I growl and breath fire and they go away." He looked at the little girl. It was quiet for a long time. Then he said very quietly, "She's my favorite."
The bell rang. It was time to go back inside. Weird Harold quickly snatched up the Princess and put her in his pocket. He snatched up lots of other pebbles and put them in his pockets, too. He didn't want to be late getting back to class.
The quiet little girl watched him pick up pebbles. She looked very determined. She opened her mouth and said, "My name is Jill." Then she ran across the blacktop back to class. Harold was surprised. Then he grabbed a few more pebbles and went inside, too.
After that, Jill and Harold spent a every recess together. Harold would tell her adventures with the pebbles and the Princess. There was always the Princess. Jill would mostly watch. Sometimes she would say something, but usually she was quiet.
One day, Jill spoke up. She said, "I never talk to anyone else. Only you. You wait for me to talk. Everyone else just wants to talk, not listen." It was quiet for a long time. Then she said, "I'm glad you're Weird, Harold."
Harold said, "I'm glad you talk to me."
As the days went past, it got warmer. The school year was going to end. Jill and Harold wouldn't see each other for months, and there wasn't anything they could do about it.
"Are you going to be here next year, too?" asked Harold.
"Yes," said Jill. It was quiet for a long time. Then Harold reached into his pocket and took out a pebble. He held it out to Jill. It was shiny and clear and very pale blue, like the sky. It was the Princess.
Harold said, "Take it. Promise you'll give it back next year. It's my favorite." Jill took the Princess. She put it in her pocket. It was quiet for a long time.
Then it was summer. Harold didn't enjoy summer without Jill, and Jill didn't enjoy summer without Harold. Then summer was over, and school started again. At the first recess, Jill ran straight out to Harold smiling. She handed him a pebble. It was the Princess. Harold took the Princess out of Jill's hand. Harold also held on to Jill's hand. They both smiled, and it was quiet for a long time.
Years passed, and they grew up together. Every summer, Harold gave Jill the Princess. Every fall, Jill gave it back. They graduated, married, and aged. They had children and grandchildren. They were happy together for 64 years. Jill was always quiet, and Harold was always weird. Everyone called them "Jill and Weird Harold," like they were one person with one name. No one was ever happier. Every day Weird Harold told Jill, "You're my favorite."
When they were very old, Jill got sick. She was going away, and it was going to be quiet for a very long time. She told Weird Harold, "If you miss me, look in the old coffee can. I left you something." Then she went away.
"Do you know what was in the old coffee can?" Grandpa asked the little girl.
The little girl didn't answer. Grandpa reached into his pocket and pulled out a pebble. It was a different kind of pebble. It was shiny and clear and very pale blue, like the sky. It was beautiful. The little girl said very quietly, "It's the Princess!"
"Yes, it is," said Grandpa. "I want you to keep it. You can be the good dragon and protect it from evil knights. You can remember the story of Weird Harold. Maybe it'll make you happy." It was quiet for a long time.
"It already makes me happy," said the little girl. "It's a good story."
Grandpa chuckled. "Then it's time to go to sleep like a good little girl." He tucked her in. He kissed her on the forehead. He started to leave.
The little girl said, "Goodnight, Grandpa Harold. I love you."
Grandpa turned and smiled. "I love you, too, little Jill. You know, you look just like your Grandma Jill when she was your age." It was quiet for a long time. Then he left.
A few days later, little Jill went back to school. When the children went to play on the blacktop at recess, Jill didn't play with the other children. She didn't play on the swings or on the kickball diamond. She walked in lazy circles on the blacktop. Sometimes she'd pick up a pebble. Sometimes she'd put one down just so. If someone invited her to play regular games, she'd growl at them and chase them away. Someone called her Weird Jill. Jill was happy with that.
THE END
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