Headed in the Wrong Direction

I am driving in to work yesterday afternoon. 1:45. Working 2 to 6.

Why such a weird shift you ask, and rightfully so.

Carol had a follow-up appointment at Dartmouth-Hitchcock at 10:30. It's an hour drive for us. So it kills a lot of time.

Predictable appointment. At least the way it has been for a while. They listen to Carol, she talks about the progress she is making, the tiny, little signs of moving forward, the hard work she is putting in. AND the fucking enormous frustration she feels at how slowly this is all going.

They tell her she is on track.

Actually, it is a good deal. It is a positive thing. They are very supportive, no condescension, they tell the truth. They acknowledge the slowness of the process, but they give Carol the motivation she needs to keep on fighting.

Got home at 12:30. Carol had the rest of the day off, for which I am grateful. It was a beautiful day and she deserves it.

I consumed a little lunch and hit the road.

Memorial Day Weekend is a powerful and confusing thing. For some people it is a genuine three day weekend. A weekend that promises complete abandon. Cookouts, concerts, booze, drugs, milk, prayer and everything in between. The unofficial kick off of summer.

It carries a lot of weight.

Some people have to work it. One day, two days, all three days. Life in America is a sadly disappointing thing for most people. There are no breaks. No rest. No reward. Life is a fucking grind, a horrible, hopeless, soul sucking grind.

I am not in that category. Yeah, I had to work 2-6 on Friday night of Memorial Day Weekend, I had to work today from 10:45 to 2:15. BUT I had many years as a privileged "professional" who had holidays, three day weekends, sick time, every goddamn benefit available to people who mostly don't deserve it.

ANYWAY...................

I am driving to work yesterday in complete opposition to the happy people, the lucky people, who were heading north with trailers, coolers, campers - every goddamn thing that could provide them with short term happiness.

Bummed me out a bit. Even though it really doesn't matter. Carol and I are not doing anything exciting this weekend. Or any long weekend, really.

It was just the palpable, very heavy feeling that all these people - and it was a strong and steady stream of traffic - were gleefully traveling north. And I was going to work.

Along with millions of other people to whom the long weekend means absolutely nothing.

That, my friends, is the power of the Memorial Day Weekend.

Summer is sacred to the working man and woman. You get the chance to squeeze in some easy living in between hard shifts of dignity-killing obligation.

It is something. It is something that is really real. Everybody NEEDS validation for the fact that they are human.

Before they get beat down again. Relentlessly.

For the record, this morning was a whole different thing to me. I was in a rock'n'roll mood. Had the sun roof open, the windows down, radio LOUD. Walked into Dunkin Donuts and picked up my On the Go order while a whole bunch of losers waited in line for the opportunity to place an order and wait 15 minutes for it to be ready.

I sang like a crazy man on the road.

Sometimes you just have to reclaim your dignity in your own way in your own style.

Fuck it, baby. Kiss my ass.