We're Definitely Not on the PC Vacation Schedule

We didn't have Monday off for Veteran's Day, which is what happens when corporate America sets it's holiday schedule sometime in the early part of last century. We did have Columbus Day off, but the whole thing is an odd trade (normally it's a Columbus Day/MLK Jr. day trade off).

When you're on a month long production cycle that's forecasting two months ahead though, it's hard to live in the actual month.

As a result, I hadn't much thought about the day (until realizing somewhat late into it that Veteran's Day explained the lack of traffic and the quiet around the internet). And driving over to a friend's to do my laundry (60 pairs of underwear, four hours, two eps of Cold Case, 1 HIMYM, and catching up on Dexter later), I heard a piece on NPR about homeless vets and how that issue extended back all the way to not only our Civil War, but the English Revolutionary war. That armies have always pulled from those who don't have a lot of other options, that there are rarely places to come home to. The piece mentioned the GI Bill, and how that forestalled some of the homelessness, providing two years unquestioning unemployment to both resettle the returning soldiers and to allow the economy to readjust. It talked about the WWI vets and how Hoover had them swept from the streets of Washington DC out of fear that they were communist sympathizers.

And of course, I did start to cry. I'd like to say thank you to the soldiers who've gotten such a poor welcome over the years and centuries, the people we send to war, use as political and cannon fodder and fail to support when they return. My grandfather was in WWII, fought in Japan, this young kid from Western Wyoming, naming my dad after a friend of his who'd died in the war - John Luckey, ironically enough, and everyone has always called my dad Luckey instead of Theo. I've no idea how the war changed my grandfather. He doesn't talk about that sort of thing, instead is the gentle little old Greek man, ridiculous about animals, handsome and short, and plays guitar all around town, unintentionally wooing the ladies and mourning his wife of 60 years who passed the winter my father had his stroke.

The writer's strike made me cry for a different reason, the United Hollywood blog was giving a list of FAQs, and one of them was whether or not non-union members could help picket and there answer was unanimously yes, and for some reason that just made me ridiculously teary. Labor relations are definitely an old pinko commie issue, and one I'm fully in support of, and it makes me happy to see people supporting the striking writers. I hope the support continues!

My dad was part of the teacher's union growing up, was in charge of it for awhile, and I distinctly remember them striking on cold and snowy days, marching unhappily and resolutely for equal pay and treatment for people tasked with educating children. I've never forgotten that, how conflicted they all were, and united none the less.

Oh, and BTW, thanks to Mom and to Michael for the Bob Dylan additions:)

One of the joys of being a Dylan acolyte is that everyone I know has sent me this, and I've loved seeing everyone else's message.

Here's mom's: