"Labor Days" (Sept. 2007)

Ahhh, the work we do. Slow down just enough for the weekend to pause before picking it up and flinging it full throttle again on Monday morning. And after a summer that might include a vacation trip or two while the kids are out of school, the 3-day holiday break for Labor Day marks the karmic end of summer.

Now that the angle of daylight slowly grows longer and the days shorten, the cues to work are fully apparent in my vegetable garden. The summer-long drought still has not released our throat from its grip, but the inch of rain we got a couple weekends ago was enough to kickstart the tomatoes, beans and peppers, but most importantly, all the weeds and things in the fields that the deer have not been able to eat all summer. I let myself imagine if only for a moment that there may yet be some bounty of red maters and purple peppers and green beans to stockpile for the winter. It would be nice to harvest some fruits for my hard labors to grow the garden and attempt to protect it from the starving deer.

That work fills small cracks in the mortar between the bricks of new parenthood and the gestation of a new record. Between the studio and the swaddler, time is precious and sweet. Much work goes undone, other work gets waved at, still other work gets attempted in all degrees of success, from completion to complete lack thereof. It is the New Normal, a reminder that he who works hardest not only doesn't win, but misses much in between.

I rise like Jefferson in the predawn light, but while my mind may be ablaze in the morning dew with thoughts of creativity and discipline, my task is far simpler. Change the child's diaper, laughing and goofing around until the last possible instant when we absolutely have to be in the carseat so Mom can make it to school on time, all the while trying to solve the puzzle of how today's outfit might possibly attach to said squirming baby. It is a good work, a simple work, and unlike the garden, soon ready to expire from exhaustion in the face of impending frost, it will not slow with the onset of winter's chill.

In that light, I imagine leaving for this month's tour of the midwest out to Colorado will be among the hardest things I've ever done, so I hope you'll come to a show and say hello and ease my longing for home. For it is sharing the words and music with you that is my life and my livelihood, and more than ever, I am grateful for the great work.

PS - Watch out for the little ones waiting for those buses, and you're never late enough to work to warrant passing one with flashing red lights.