Thursday, another day in a week of quarantine.  The days run together.  I am bereft of the normal routine of work that structures our sense of time.  There is more mulch to be moved, to spread around the yard.  The mind’s focus necessarily is restricted to the boundaries of one’s own house.  There’s nowhere else to go, to go safely. 

A friend yesterday took me to task for my criticism of several southern states, South Carolina and Georgia.  The governor of those states has ordered a return to a normal business status within a few days.  The question was posed, “Do you think those states (their citizens) are the only ones who want to return to work?”  The question is answered as it is asked.  Everyone desires to work in order to sustain themselves.  There are additional reasons work is desired that are non material, not related to food, clothing and shelter.  Our work provides a practical link to the relationships that we have, some of which we truly enjoy.  Work also structures in a metaphysical sense the nature of the world, the particular and diverse subcultures within which we live.  A poets world feels, looks different than that of a carpenter framing houses, or that of a short order cook.  Finally I think that our work is connected to the moral fiber of our society.  A society that in general features reciprocal respect in the marketplace of exchange, substantive value offered for good value received, — will be a strong society, able to withstand adversity.  Life in the market square with others is the sphere of moral challenge, of ethical development.  Life is seldom a choice between black and white.  There’s a lot of gray.

Of course, — everyone wants to return to work.

As I shoveled and spread mulch earlier in the week I listened to a playlist on the iphone.  This song came as a reminder of an evening a few years ago.  My daughter invited me to join her for a concert evening featuring Lukas Nelson.  The venue was on the northside, a restaurant-bar reminiscent of an old school place where you’d expect to see Sinatra and the Rat Pack in a corner booth.  Perhaps you can guess the heritage of the artist from his last name?  This song in my earphones reminded me of a great evening with my oldest daughter.

This song is about work, about doing what is necessary in order to maintain life and limb.

Runnin’ Shine

My grandfather died up in the hills of Appalachia
Working on a submarine still
They found him while the mash
Was still fermenting in the boiler
His back against an oak upon the hill
And luckily my father knew
And I could learn a thing or two
About running and securing revenue
Keeping up with changing times
Dodging governmental fines
Trying to stay alive like people do

Alive
Doing fine
Runnin’ shine
Alive
Doing fine
Just runnin’ shine

I met a girl not long ago
Who may become someone I know
If she can handle everything I do
She has to understand that there’s
A difference between loving me
And wanting me to be somebody new
But I know she’s a gift as well
Carolina silver bell
And she could give me something that I need
While I’m chased by federal revenuers
Executing slick maneuvers
Trying to stay alive but living free

Alive
Doing fine
Runnin’ shine
Alive
Doing fine
Just runnin’ shine

lyrics by Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real