Labor Day

It's Monday. It's Labor Day. And it's my birthday. It happens like this often (although I haven't actually done the math to see how many times in the last 64 years). I have very keen memories about Labor Day during my childhood. Those days represented the close of summer, the return to school, the end of the luxury of unscheduled hours.
Specifically, I remember one summer that had been a very good, independent one. I was on the advanced swim team that practiced from 8-10 am and then again from 2-3pm. Yes, hard to get up and ride my bike to the pool. Hard to do all that swimming that I was not particularly good at. But the camaraderie around the swimming pool life was very comfortable, and the freedom of a full day at the pool was exhilarating. The last day of that pool season was Monday, Labor Day. My birthday. I just didn't want that summer to end, so I remember the day, the last hours, the final minutes where some kids tried to be the last in the pool. It was hard to give it up, so I hung on to every moment. From then on, the summer was the swimming pool, and I did whatever it took to assure it. The end of summer was a sad day for me, and one that I tried to stretch out as long as I could to soak up every drop. That made my birthday bittersweet. It was a little happy, and a little sad. But it was memorable because of that tug of war.
It is funny how that kind of feeling carries over even now. I just had a glorious weekend at one of my favorite spots with favorite folks.(http://www.buildsxsemagazine.com/2016/08/saultopaul-documentary-film-john-henry-summerour/) The weather was perfect, the conversation lively, the scenery spectacular. It was a blissful escape. But as time came to leave, I felt that old tug of war in me again. So I walked up to the labyrinth and paced off those last moments to seal them in; each step a twinge of pleasure and pain.

There's nothing remarkable or new in this realization. Many have written eloquently on the subject.

We never taste a perfect joy; our happiest successes are mixed with sadness. Pierre Corneille

The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. Carl Jung

 But the older I get, the more I realize it is those bittersweet moments that linger longer in my memory. Put them to music, and you'll never forget.

San Diego Serenade

Never saw the morning till I stayed up all night
Never saw the sunshine till I turned out the light
Never saw my home town till I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody till I needed the song

Never saw the white line till I was leavin' you behind
Never knew I needed you till I was caught up in a bind
And I never spoke I love you till I cursed you in vain
Never felt my heart strings until I nearly went insane

Never saw the East coast until I moved to the West
I never saw the moonlight till it shone off your breast
And I never saw your heart till someone tried to steal it away
Never saw your tears till they rolled down your face

I never saw the morning till I stayed up all night
Never saw the sunshine till you turned out the light
Never saw my home town till I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody till I needed the song

Songwriters

TOM WAITS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3yeEvMEy1s