Labor Day 2025.
A perfect day to float along with my thoughts on a gorgeous late summer beauty.
The honeybees are at work amidst the blue sage in front of our house in a suburb of Chicago where we have lived for 47 years. Our son Ari and his son Judah have been staying with us this weekend.
My wife Risa is baking brownies and they smell fabulous. She is explaining to Judah how she knows they are ready by sticking a toothpick in them. If she withdraws it and it has no residue from the brownies, they are ready. Valuable education.
Ari and I have been discussing his career change which is progressing slower than he had hoped. I make suggestions and listen to his reactions. It’s painful, important, and we’ve done it before.
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Risa will be tuning into a coaching session dealing with the miserable migraines she has suffered with for several years. She has dedicated herself to this coaching group for months. By using meditation, positivity, coaching, and the help of the leader and other members of the group, she has made enormous progress with the headaches and vertigo which have plagued her.
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My grandson Judah will be 10 soon. He is a delightful boy who hugs me a lot and tells me he loves me, more than I think I deserve, but I certainly like it. I took him out to enjoy watching the honeybees with me, but that scared him and he went back in to return to his video games. I worry that he spends too much time on the games.
When we go into the house through the garage he always takes note of the big photo of Bruce Lee doing a flying jump kick with tremendous flourish. Judah will be going for his Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do in October with his Dad and they recently passed the jump rope requirement by doing well over 100 jumps in the required time.
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Labor Day has huge significance for me. Seventeen years ago, on the Labor Day holiday in 2008, I was lying sedated in St. Francis Hospital in Evanston. A day before, the likelihood of my survival was remote because of a heart attack and virtually complete blockage of the artery called the “widowmaker.” Fortunately a cardiac surgeon was on duty that day.
He told my wife that inserting a stent was a longshot, but it was my only chance to make it. If he could open the artery enough to stent it, I had a chance to survive a quadruple bypass surgery on the Tuesday after Labor Day. Obviously he succeeded, and when Risa asked him afterwards how he did it, the Muslim surgeon pointed to the sky in silence.
I have no memory of Labor Day 2008, but I imagine it very frequently, thinking about family and friends in the waiting area. When I look at the bees sucking their nectar from the purple sage, I feel happy. They don’t know how short their lives are, but they sure do make the most of their days.
I want to make the most of my days, too.
Question: What had meaning for you on Labor Day?
4 Comments
Fishing with my 8-year-old grandson. Priceless!
Yes, if we are alive we are blessed. Thank you for sharing.
Keith
Lovely blog, Lloyd! I started my day meeting my sister for coffee in Cloverdale, then made a (hopefully) excellent new animal rescue contact. I also chatted with new people at an intriguing winery in the Dry Creek area called Amphora.
Not sure if it would help Risa but I’ve had migraines for years and was told to try an herbal remedy, Feverfew which I think is chamomile in capsule form. It works for me by taking four capsules and about 45 minutes later taking another four and if the migraine persists, take more. Can’t promise results, but it had worked for me for 30 some years. I never liked that over the counter stuff that was supposed to help because all it did was keep me awake. She can get it at Sprouts or The Medicine Shop.
Steve Krom