Hi, Ho...Hi, Ho....

When I think of my father I think of his aluminum, workingman's lunch box. I see my mother making the ham-and-cheese sandwiches and wrapping them in wax paper, adding an apple, some homemade cookies and filling the red thermos with hot coffee, then latching the box and placing it on the kitchen counter top.

I am proud to be the daughter of a steelworker and one of the things I treasure most about Pittsburgh is our blue-collar roots and work ethic. You went to work...simply and strongly....you went to work. At the Allegheny Ludlum steel mill, my father worked shifts --- 8-4, 4-12, 12-8. During the weeks he worked 12-8 we played outside even more than usual so Dad could sleep.

I do not recall my father ever missing work, nor, do I recollect my mother taking a nap. Providing for the family and making a home, my parents went to work. When my oldest nephew, now an apprenticed electrician, was doing a report on unions, I called on my English-major skills and assisted in the effort. I am proud of Nathan and the success he's made of himself and the evidenced work ethic as he gets up before dawn to head to work. It's cool being able to look at a major project and be able to say, "My nephew worked on that." Our research of unions and the steel industry found that Western Pennsylvania was the second-leading producer of steel at one time and it was the workers from our region who produced the steel that built the Brooklyn Bridge, the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building.

As previously noted, I'm old and now can better appreciate how much society changes. Traveling and talking with residents in the many former mill towns and manufacturing hubs I can join in their lament that "we don't make anything here anymore."

Yet, on this Labor Day 2014, it's important to remember that once we did and those workers, quite literally and metaphorically, built the nation. As we shift into a more technologically driven and computer-fueled workforce, it will serve us well to take pride in the work we do, to contribute to our shared community and to have the ethic to get up and go to work.

Here's to the workers and the laborers! Think of them today in between snacking on a grilled hot dog and swimming at the pool.

sj;

Grand old game

As the Major League Baseball trade deadline approaches, the Pirates, in serious contention, are a buyer not a seller this trade season and my thoughts turn to the grand ol' game of baseball.

While at a local eatery of the quick variety, I noticed a young Little Leaguer dressed in his uniform. The uniform was of major league quality: a heat resistant top with a very cool script of the home team on the front; the child's surname in block letters on the back; a black, outlined in white, block number; a matching hat...fitted; long gray pants just like the pros wear and Nike cleats.

Times sure have changed. When I played Little League my uniform was some kind of flannel hybrid, with a black stripe along the pant legs and "Bures Ford" splayed across the back...no number...no name...a car dealership.

No matter how we try to kill the game with free agency in the millions of dollars, artificial turf, tied all-star games and strike shortened seasons, the game survives. Forget soccer (America has post World Cup...right?) the beautiful game is baseball.

It's a game that's geometrically appealing in its lay-out and structure --- 9 innings, 3 outs, 3 strikes, 9 players. Keeping score at a baseball game and checking the players' stats is the closest I come to having any interest in numbers or math. The stats matter and form the foundation for discussion on who are the greatest players.

I've just come inside from playing catch with the neighbor kid --- it got too dark to see the ball; we're looking into lights, he's already asked his Dad.

How wonderful is playing catch? We talked about the Pirates and our favorite players; he shared how his traveling Little League team is 0 and 12 and how they've been "mercy ruled" for over half their games. (For the uninitiated, the mercy rule is when a team is trouncing their opponents so convincingly and leading by more than 10 runs after 4 innings the game is called...mercy). My catching buddy thinks this is a stupid rule and as he philosophizes, "It's not like were' trying to lose, can't we just keep playing for fun?!!?"

Baseball is timeless and playing catch is grace.

Part of playing catch involves pop-ups and grounders and bringing the throw in from the outfield as we imagine ourselves in those game situations. Sometime during catch, one person will pretend to be the pitcher and the other naturally crouches in the catcher's stance. The neighbor kid assumed the role of the pitcher...sigh...yes, baseball is timeless...unfortunately, my aged thighs and knees are not...

sj;

Get out!

Happy Birthday, Henry David Thoreau! Many of us first met Henry in our high school English classes slogging through his literary classic, "Walden Pond." Having taken another look at the book not from an assignment, yet, from wanting to, I found I really enjoyed it and there was a lot to appreciate about Henry.

Thoreau was a a big fan of sauntering --- which is walking around at a moderate, reflective pace thinking, observing, just being. In celebration of Henry's birthday, I invite you to saunter some today. Walden found much inspiration in nature and sought to live simply and in rhythm with the natural world. If your sauntering today leads you to the woods and you become inspired to build a cabin and take up residence, be sure to bring along writing materials, I hear that makes for a great book.

With our ever decreasing green space and our over-connected-all-the-time society, I think Throeau would shout, "Get out!" In part from incredulity and urging us to get outdoors and look and smell and go barefoot and splash in streams and sit underneath trees. At the risk of sounding pretentious, an op-ed by Timothy Egan in yesterday's New York Times entitled, "Let 'Em Eat Dirt," is a plea for parents to allow their kids to get muddy, eat dirt and run freely in the great outdoors. Egan's inspiration for the column came from watching a little boy playing in a muddy tide pool and then runnning off in pursuit of a butterfly and the author's friend remarking how rare it is to see children just outside being with all the cool stuff in nature -- no date-planners, no scheduled play dates, no helicopter parents.

I'm thankful for a great childhood where days were spent swimming in the creek, walking in the woods, playing catch in the field, digging in the garden and eating meals outside. This upbringing has served me well. Now a suburban dweller, I am making it a point to take daily walks near the river and to make time to just be outside in nature, with trees, the music of birdsong and animals that scurry loudly in the leaves.

The sun is shining, the weather is warm, the landscape is green....what are you waiting for? GET OUT!

sj;