On Work

I picked up Philip Levine's book of poems "What Work Is" this evening. I was intending to read a bit before I went to bed. I opened the book. Title page where he signed it right under his name. I met him at the Santa Barbara Poet's Workshop, in 2008(?). I started to read his words, just talking about work. I have to work tomorrow. And I am getting tired.

I set the book aside. I do that a lot. I have other things to do. Not enough time. I have to work tomorrow. It is what I do. Since I was 12 and mowing lawns for three bucks a lawn. Mowing lawns in the New Orleans August humidity, sweating till soaked. Bought my first lawn mower 'cause my dad got tired of me borrowing his. I think I gave it to my brother when I turned 14. By that age I was working as a soda jerk and ice cream scooper. From fire to ice. (Isn't that a poem by Frost, or Sandburg... Fire and Ice...gotta be Frost.) Nevermind, I digress. Work. Yes.

Been doing it since I was twelve. Of course not all the time, but still, had somewhere to go, something to do. Since I was twelve. Not all the time. I took four years off for college. My dad said that was a full-time job, going to school. Somewhere to go, something to do. Thirty nine years now. Wow.

I had a part-time job through high school. A buck an hour. Spending money. Got me out of the heat. When I graduated high school I needed money for college. I started working in restaurants. A buck eighty-five to start. Pretty cool. Big time. Then they raised the minimum wage to two and a quarter. Wow.

I fell in love with the restaurants. I was a quiet kid in school, not very good at studying. But the restaurants I really felt like I belonged. Everyone was so friendly and they were great characters. I loved it. I spent the next fourteen years of my life working in Restaurants. I counted them once. Over twenty. I shall count them again. No, it just seemed like there were a lot. Only thirteen. Hard to believe. I thought there were more. Two major hotels accounted for most of the restaurants. I enjoyed it. I hated it. The work was fulfilling and educational, but also stressful and not very lucrative financially. I met a lot of people and more than a few good friends. Restaurants taught me to love food. Restaurants made me fat.

But work. I digress. It is what we do. Such an unnatural activity. It zaps your humanity, your spirit, your creativity. Some people say that work makes us creative. It gives us energy, character and strength. Perhaps, but for a creative mind, it stifles. But then again, if not for work, where would we go each day? What would we do? True. So, on we go. Back to work. I must sleep, because tomorrow...I work.

D.