Labor Day in Rockville Centre

Labor Day is always a festive holiday in my hometown. People celebrate with barbecues at the beach clubs or in their backyards. It is a time for families and friends to gather together, enjoy each other's company, and share remembrances of summer days. Since I live near the Long Island South Shore beaches, beaching is a topic of interest but the significance of Labor Day is usually not remarked upon so I decided to research the history. 

Each holiday or season I place antique postcards from my ephemera collection in the entranceway of my home as a decoration. Since I do not have a specific one for Labor Day, I searched the web and found the following image.

In 1894, Labor Day officially became a national holiday celebrating American workers and the labor movement. As the U.S. Department of Labor says, "It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country." My grandparents, mother, and my husband's father were part of the workforce. I honor and celebrate their efforts. 

"Labour will refresh itself with hope."  

(a line from a vintage card)

One of my poet friends, Diane Mayr, wrote a blog post, "What Work Is," for Poetry Friday this week. You may be interested in reading the poem by Philip Levine that can be accessed  here.

On the beach of Coney Island (1901)

Parades and picnics have marked the passage of time since the turn of the 20th century. Beachgoers flock to the shore for the last days of summer vacation whether it is sunny or not, as noted by the above antique photo card. Beside Coney Island, Jones Beach that opened in 1929 is a popular place for beaching. 

While I thought I would not be a beachgoer today, my husband woke to the thought, "Let's go to the beach." Soon we will head out for the ritual trip to Point Lookout beach and then return to Rockville Centre for the annual Labor Day barbecue at the Rockville Links Club. Each year of my children's lives, we attended the festivities there. This year, my friends invited us to the barbecue that will bring back fond memories of the cotton candy cart, grilled hot dogs, an array of different foods, and a table of rich desserts. Enjoy your Labor Day holiday. I know I will.

All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity.

-Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Celebrate the Art of Baking

It's time to take out the mixing bowls, secret ingredients, and chocolate to honor a four-generation tradition. I'm celebrating the art of baking that has provided many joyful hours of bonding with family members. This week I shared my love of baking with my son who pleasantly surprised me when he agreed to bake with me on his day off. 

Baking time is a family tradition that was introduced to me when I was a little girl. My grandmother spent hours baking and cooking every week. It was her gift to her family so when visiting each summer, I was her constant companion. Nonnie amazed me with the way she kneaded her dough on a huge wooden board dusted with flour. The kitchen filled with sweet smells as batches of cookies were placed in the oven. Then, there were the tasting tests that I mastered with ease. I watched; I learned; I tried to memorize each move. Nothing was written down or placed in a recipe box because Nonnie could not read or write in English. Her brilliance as a baker was well-known in her community and even honored at one time. Her honey dolls were unique, large, flat doll-like formations with little silver beads for decorations. They were carefully stored in a huge, dark closet until unwrapped for consumption. There were many other one of a kind delicious iced and plain cookies made with mincemeat, anise, and vanilla. Since there were no photographs of these creations, I have committed them to memory and never have forgotten the large trays of Italian cookies that my Nonnie made for my wedding. 

I also watched with delight my mother who honored the family tradition and became an excellent baker. She was known for her exceptional celebration cakes that were artfully decorated. All requests were honored. Each birthday or special occasion marked a newly created custom-baked cake from Grandma Kay's kitchen. Beside the family, neighborhood children and adults enjoyed my mother's cakes and cookies. 

Both my grandmother and mother were artistic bakers and should have opened a bakery with the talent they had. For years, I watched both create edible delicacies. Then, there came a day when my mother decided it was more peaceful to bake alone after all were asleep. She said it was her quiet time. I recall the scurry of little feet running to the baking site the morning after baking. There were lots of oohs and aahs over the beautifully decorated cake that could range from a a little princess fantasy to a sports-related theme. Cookies were snatched as the tasting tests began. 

Growing up among creative bakers gave me inspiration to share my love of baking not only with my family but with friends. This week when my son said yes to baking, I smiled and jumped right into the process with him at my side. 

For me, baking is fun with a sidekick and that's where my son comes in. He has become an excellent baking assistant who not only helps out with the baking when the timing is right but also cleans up my giant messes. Life is good when fresh baked goods appear in my kitchen. I honor this family tradition and look forward to the next bite.

I join Ruth Ayres and the Celebrate This Week community to find the positives of life to celebrate each week. Please travel over to Ruth Ayres Writes to read Ruth's inspirational post.

Post-Note: I just heard good news from my sister. My uncle stored my grandmother's large wooden baking boards. They are to be sanded and finished with linseed oil to remember the fine art of baking that has been our time-honored family tradition.