Thank you, unions

As we head into the last weekend of summer...

I am the daughter of a union negotiator. During my formative years, she worked in a shirt factory and came home nights with flannel fluff stuck in her hair.

She never wanted me to work in a factory, and when I tried to apply for a summer job at a nearby factory where they made Big Smith overalls, I’m told she called the boss and discouraged him from hiring me. I will never know if that story is true, but I was college-bound and I believe she feared that the decent wages that would come my way from working on the line would distract me from my pursuit of a college degree.

I’m not sure it would have, but the money was good, and I understand why she’d have been concerned. A (International Ladies’ Garment Workers’) union made all the difference to my family. A union gave us our weekends, a decent wage, and safer working conditions —as well as the means of ensuring those safer conditions if they did not already exist.

I belonged to a newspaper union briefly when I lived in Kansas, and yes, I was on the negotiating committee. I was also hugely pregnant, and at one point, I stood up, put my pregnant belly on the table, pointed my finger at someone on the other side of the table, and said firmly, “You’re listening with your mouth.” How did I have the guts to do that? I was protected by my union, and so I could be truthful without fear.

I still know all the words to this:

Here’s a little bit of history about the holiday from — yes! — the U.S. Department of Labor. The demise of U.S. unions has cost all of us, and not just in nostalgia.

Have a wonderful weekend, and see you back here on Tuesday.