Towards the latter half of the 19th century, there began to be a significant push, in the form of marches and rallies, from worker groups and organizations for an 8-hour work day.  At the time, working conditions were quite severe with significant injuries and deaths.  Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle” gives a good picture of how terrible it was in the large factories and mills, and the unsafe conditions.  It was also common at the time to work anywhere from 10 to 16 hours a day, 6 days a week. 

Most of the May Day marches were reatively peaceful but as time passed there grew increased opposition from the police, government and employers.  This was particularly prevalent in the cities. In 1884, the Federation of Organized Trades and Labor Unions, declared “eight hours shall constitute a legal day’s labor from and after May 1, 1886″ setting up an iminent clash between workers and employers. On May 1, 1886 more than 300,000 workers in 13,000 businesses across the United States walked off their jobs.

Chicago had one of the largest marches with more than 40,000 people striking (initially, some reports say that the numbers swelled to almost double that over the next few days). That day (May 1) there was trouble at McCormick’s Reaper Plant where workers had been locked out for their demands and then were attacked by the police.  Three days later in a follow-up rally in support of those workers, there was a clash in Haymarket Square with police firing on the crowd, bringing the world’s attention (and support) to the struggle for the 8-hour work day.

This story should have a happy ending, and it does.  But it didn’t come until 1938 and the passage of the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA). The FLSA ensured our now familiar 8-hour work day, outlawed child labor and established both minimum pay and overtime pay. 700,000 workers were affected by the FLSA, and it was one of the factors that contributed to the end of the Great Depression. 

In the years between, there were marches and rallys  but following the turn of the century and the decades that followed, May Day fell victim to anti-Communist hysteria and the Cold War.  As stated by Beatrice Lumpkin, ”only a few people in the USA renained aware of the May Day tradition. That changed on May 1, 2007. On that day, millions of immigrants brought May Day back to the United States. The immigrants marched for their rights on May 1st in 2007 and 2008. In a way, that is a poetic restoration of our history. In 1886, most of the fighters for the 8-Hour Day were immigrants, too.”

Beatrice also quotes an old Labor song called, “Eight Hours”, which was a rallying cry and clearly the inspiration for the image at the top of this post, with lyrics like:

We mean to make things over, we are tired of toil for naught,
With but bare enough to live upon, and never an hour for thought,
We want to feel the sunshine, and we want to smell the flowers,
We are sure that God has will’d it, and we mean to have eight hours.
We’re summoning our forces from shipyard, shop and mill,
Eight hours for work, eight hour for rest, eight hours for what we will!
Eight hours for work, eight hour for rest, eight hours for what we will!

I actually managed to find the song itself and you can listen to it here: http://www.contemplator.com/america/eighthour.html

More information can be found at: 

May Day and the 8-Hour Day –  http://www.politicalaffairs.net/chicago-birthplace-of-may-day-and-the-8-hour-day/

The Fair Labor Standards Act – http://www.dol.gov/elaws/esa/flsa/screen5.asp

The Brief Origins of May Day – http://www.iww.org/en/history/library/misc/origins_of_mayday

Labor Notes (Songs of the Labor Movement) – http://labornotes.org/2011/10/eight-hour-song

Friday, 5:00 pm                 Creating a Timeline
How carefully should an author keep track of what happens, when, and where? What are some techniques to make this easier?

Day Al-Mohamed (m), Bud Sparkhawk, Steve White, Robert E. Waters,  Jean Marie Ward, Pamela K. Kinney

Friday, 10:00pm                The Morality of Magneto
Was Magneto right all along? What should we do when a new species comes along to supplant us?  Will we even see it coming?

Mike Kabongo (m), Day Al-Mohamed, Ahlen Moin, Joan Wendland, Christopher Weuve

Saturday, 9:00am             Helping Young Writers Find Success
Making the transition from writer to published author is a considerable challenge.  What can young writers do make more time for writing and find success in publishing?

Day Al-Mohamed (m), Meriah Crawford, Bud Sparhawk, A.J. Hartley, JM Lee, Scott M. Baker

Saturday, 6:00pm             When I am a Super Villain
The panelists are bit by radioactive meteors and given superhuman powers.  What would they do with them?

Billy Flynn (m), Davey Beauchamp, Day Al-Mohamed, KT Pinto, Tony Ruggerio, Patrick A. Vanner

Sunday, 9:00am               Rethinking Write What You Know
How does this mantra for writers work when you are trying to produce fantasy or science fiction?  Is it irrelevant, or does it need retooling?

S. Reesa Herberth (m), Michelle Moore, Bud Sparhawk, A.J. Hartley, Michelle D. Sonnier, Day Al-Mohamed

Sunday, 11:00am              Worldbuilding for Writers and Gamers
Audience participation! Panelists take suggestions from the audience then use as many suggestions as possible to create an alternate history universe.

Kate Paulk (m), Diana Bastine, Charles E. Gannon, David Bartell, Day Al-Mohamed

Sunday, 12:00pm             Steampunk as Alternate History
Is it possible to create a steampunk alt-history that doesn’t hinge on the British Empire?  Are colonialism, imperialism, and classism inherent in the subgenre?

Charles E. Gannon (m), Michelle D. Sonnier, Scott M. Baker, Leo Champion, Andrew Fox, Day Al-Mohamed

Sunday, 2:00pm               Objects in Space
What sorts of made objects – the arts, technology, creature comforts  — do you think humans would be most likely to take with them to the stars?

Paula S. Jordan (m), Day Al-Mohamed, David Bartell

I hope to get more author links up later tonight.  Obviously, it is going to be a busy busy weekend!  I’d love to stay in touch with folks, so I’ll likely be on Twitter for the duration – @DayAlMohamed.  Send me a tweet!

But my recollection would be several years after that (I wasn’t yet born in 1970) when Queen Elizabeth II came to the island.  I didn’t quite understand what was going on, I don’t think I was even old enough for school yet, only the air of excitement and that we were going to meet a real live queen, who OBVIOUSLY must have been a real live princess at some point.    I’m not one of those people who remember every moment of their childhood; what they saw or what they were thinking or feeling, but I do remember that day and the excitement and all the people.

This was part of Queen Elizabeth II’s 1979 tour.  We were all crowded on the sidewalk downtown by one of the main roundabouts.  I think there was a park nearby where they had camel rides.  I don’t recall ever riding one, but we’d occassionly get to give them a bottle of soda and they’d lift their great big necks up and slurp down the orange soda.  The only thing you had to watch out for was that they had a tendency to fling the glass bottles any which way. 

But, back to the story, we were all crowded and everyone was getting excited because her car was coming, but the adults and other peope were so tall I couldn’t see.  I don’t think I cried, but I remember being lifted up and seeing a car passing by and my mom saying, “Wave to queen, honey!  Wave to the queen!”  and I smiled as big as I could and waved as hard as I could.  If the story is that the flap of a butterfly’s wings may start a hurricane on the other side of the world; then I think my frantic waving may have caused some apocalyptic-level weather patterns.  It still makes me smile to think about that sense of anticipation and just sheer delight.

Which is why I was so excited a few weeks ago to get an invitation from the White House for the Arrival Ceremony for the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, David Cameron.  No, it wasn’t the queen, but the day still had that same sense of tension and excitement. And considering I was standing not far from a group of elementary and middle school children from one of the DC area’s international schools, it was practially overwhelming.  They couldn’t wait to see President Obama (and of course our distinguished guest), and they didn’t disappoint.  The President came by, and the cheering from the kids was amazing. They shouted and jumped up and down and frantically waved little flags.  Did I mention we got flags? And then the cheering got louder and the jumping more excited as he strolled over to talk to them and shake their hands.  And David Cameron was right there joining in.

Yes, I’ll admit it.  I did tear up a little bit.  It brought back my own memory of waving to the queen.  I’m sure driving by in the car on tour through several middle eastern nations, she never noticed one tiny little girl being held up, waving madly at her.  But at the time I believed (and the emotion attached to that belief is still with me) that she knew I was there, and was watching just for me, and that I had to do the best job at waving to her.  And so I waved and waved until my arms were tired.

It was the same on the 14th.  I don’t know if either of those men (the President and Prime Minister Cameron) realized the impression they were making, or how it made those children feel, but I’m sure that those kids will remember their White House visit and chance to “wave at the President.”

PS  I will say this visit to the White House was also much less stressful/humorous.  I did not have a guide dog who, when I found it necessary to take a “bathroom break” (there’s a reason no one likes to go on long road trips or tours with me), procceeded to drink out of the West Wing’s toilet!

Now let me be clear, I am not a prolific writer. I look on in envy at other members of my writing group who can churn out a few thousand words a night. Regularly! And before some of you folks out there make any comments about quality, I can assure you they write GREAT stuff at that pace. But a lot of times, between work, family, hobbies, social activities (and yes, I HAVE heard that writers DO have a social life) it can be difficult not only to find time to write but to feel good about what is accomplished. As an example, I put aside my Sunday afternoons for writing. It is “protected time.” But at the end of my first few afternoons, I lamented the fact that I only had completed around 2,000 words. I was feeling bad about all the wordcount I hadn’t achieved even as I was adding to it! I was beating myself up for actually WRITING!!!

Not a very good place to be mentally.

So I thought to do what I had read in that blog post – track my writing. I committed to documenting the time and wordcount that I spent on this activity. I needed to do this, if for no other reason than to assure myself that I WAS accomplishing something and moving forward. Right now, I have a small datebook that goes with me everywhere and if I spend any time on writing or writing related activities I can write that down and give myself credit for it. But what is noted must be specific. I can’t say “Writing Research – 30 minutes” I would have to say, “Writing Research – Design of HotAir Balloons During the Civil War and Dating of Design Changes from Balloon to Drigible (30 minutes).” The same for any wordcount. It must be listed specifically as to for what story or scene or novel.

I’ve been collecting information for the past 3 months and I must admit, it has kept me motivated and feeling good about my writing. Regardless of whether I get busy at work and have guilt raining down upon me like frogs and fish in a hurricane, it is somethng I can point to and say, “I did that!” Different people will have different results. I know my colleagues coul probably need to add a zero after my wordcount of the year for it to be even close to what they’re doing. But tracking your writing isn’t about other people. It is about you, and what you are doing. And in the spirit of open communication, and because I AM proud of how much I’ve accomplished, let me share a quick summary from my Quarterly Report:

JANUARY

Writing Lesson Learned: Using multiple passes on my writing works REALLY well. Pass #1: Dialogue (my strong suit) & Pass #2: Description. Etc.
Amount of Writing: 5 Days of Writing and 4747 words
Submissions: 4 Submissions (2 to CVSWriters and 2 to Magazines/Anthologies)
Notes: Feeling positive about the new year!

FEBRUARY

Writing Lesson Learned: Have a “Back-Up” Day. When I don’t make my Sunday scheduled writing time, I don’t have an alternate time reserved so no writing gets done.
Amount of Writing: 6 Days of Writing and 5520 words
Submissions: 3 Submisions (0 to CVSWriters and 3 to Magazines/Anthologies)
Notes: First Sale of the Year!

MARCH

Writing Lesson Learned: Momentum is Critical. The more you do and keep doing, the easier it is.
Amount of Writing: 7 Days of Writing and 4836 words
Submissions: 5 Submissions (1 to CVSWriters and 4 to Magazines/Anthologies)
Notes: Crazy-busy work month. Lost 2 “Writing-Sundays”

Cross-posted at Unleaded: Fuel for Writers

Lyndon Johnson signing the Civil Rights Act - MLK behind him

Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. For those of you outside the United States, it doesn’t seem to sound like much, just another federal holiday marking the birthday of some other “famous personage.” Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (it always sounds odd to my ear to have both titles in there) was a minister and a leader in the Civil Rights Movement. He is mostly remembered for his civil disobedience and use of nonviolent protest to end racial discrimination in America; an end to segregation. What I always like to consider is that his vision was much much broader – he also was a proponent of efforts to end poverty and was staunchly against the Vietnam war. There is so much more to his story – he visited India, specifically Gandhi’s birthplace and it had a profound impact on his belief in nonviolent action as a way of demanding change; one of his closest advisers was a gay man and there is a direct line from his activities to those of the disability movement. According to Arlene Mayerson from the Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund, Inc. (DREDF)

“Like the African Americans who sat in at segregated lunch counters and refused to move to the back of the bus, people with disabilities sat in federal buildings, obstructed the movement of inaccessible buses, and marched through the streets to protest injustice. And like the civil rights movements before it, the disability rights movement sought justice in the courts and in the halls of Congress.”

Today is a day to think about who we are and who we want to be. As individuals and as a country. Inclusion, not exclusion. I have to admit, I fall into the trap as easy as other people. It is so much simpler to join against something than it is to join FOR something. Across the internet, I’m sure today, I’ll hear snippets of King’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech from the rally at the Lincoln Memorial. And it is amazing and electrifying, even years later. It gives me goosebumps as much as “Four score and seven years ago…” and “Today is a day that will live in infamy…” But on that amazing, electrifying day, women were nowhere to be seen on the program; not one was on the program to speak.

This isn’t meant to be an indictment of King or any other luminaries, but as this is a day of remembrance, and of service and of thoughtful reflection on injustice and discrimination, it is a good time to remember our own blind spots and perhaps rededicate ourselves to greater awareness. Men, women, white, black, able-bodies, gay, straight, poor, rich, conservative, liberal…does it matter? Should it? We can’t help but categorize. We can’t stop that automatic labeling but we can be more aware of it and we can be willing to push our own personal thinking. It is only by recognizing the inherent value and humanity in each person that we truly can achieve the dream alluded to by Martin Luther King.

I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question. I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry. I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked. I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison. And I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.

Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major. Say that I was a drum major for justice. Say that I was a drum major for peace. I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter.

The sign is a little beat up but you can almost read it.

One of the things Renee and I like to do occasionally is have an “adventure.”  Usually it involves trying something new or visiting an area where we haven’t been, so nothing too wild and crazy. (Sorry to disappoint all you thrill-seekers).  One of the places we discovered recently that really ended up being a great history lesson and a fun casual day-trip was Matildaville, Virginia.

What?  You say you’ve never heard of Matildaville?  That would be because it doesn’t exist anymore.  This “lost town” actually has a really interesting story attached to it.  It all starts in 1785 with the creation of the Patowmack Company by a gentleman named George Washington.  You may have heard of him.

Anyway, if you look at the date, the United States of America is still a VERY young country, only recently independent and not yet embroiled in the War of 1812.  There are 13 colonies but people are pushing ever westward and  George Washington worried about the tenuous connection between the more “civilized” eastern states and the western frontier, fearing a break of the union between states.  (As we all know, that happened much later and along north-south lines, rather than east-west.) George Washington’s idea was to connect the east coast to the Ohio River Valley through a waterway – the Potomac.  His vision was to “bind those people to us by a chain which never can be broken.”  Pretty clever, yes?

We took several picture of the Great Falls and it's quite pretty but I will also say that we noticed that the scenic overlook that we took the shots from is much better on the Virginia side than on the Maryland side. We saw the poor folk on the other side crowded together trying to see.

However, as great an idea as that is in theory, there were a few technical difficulties with the creation of a Potomac river east-west waterway.  One of the amazing sights we saw and what would become one of the biggest obstacles for Washington is Great Falls where in just one mile, the river drops 80 feet.  The only way to get barges up and down the river was to bypass the waterfalls completely by building a canal with several locks to raise and lower the boats, like a giant staircase.  That’d be difficult enough to do today, now consider cutting into rock and earth and building a stone-walled canal in 1785!

The remains of the Superintendent's house and the Boarding house. The area was so green and beautiful...

Information from the local historical society and the Park Service gave us some more details – Matildaville came into being really as a result of the construction of the canal – a “construction town” built around the laborers and travellers. The town was named Matildaville for the wife of one of the founders, Harry Lee (who for you history buffs was the father of Robert E. Lee). Matildaville grew to include markets, gristmill, sawmill, foundry, inn, ice house, workers’ barracks, boarding houses, and small homes.

The old springhouse had us both fascinated and I had Renee almost convinced to crawl down in the hole and take a look. FYI it ended a couple of feet in. But if we'd been smarter we would have realized...isn't that a great place for snakes to rest. Eeep!

But the canal was never really profitable.  Actually it was a downright failure. Construction costs had been high, and the Potomac route wasn’t useable much of the year because of water levels. The company went bankrupt and the canal was abandoned in 1830. Matildaville followed soon after.  Over time the woods reclaimed the town.  Now it is part of Great Falls Park and the Patowmack Canal has been declared a National Historic Landmark.

You can find out more about Matildaville and its fascinating history here:

• Formation and Development of the Town of Matildaville, Virginia by Debbie Robison
• Great Falls Historical Society, Virginia

I hope to post more of our photos from the day soon!

And for those of you looking for a picture of yours truly, below are a couple of shots from the Victorian Day of the Dead Picnic in Rock Creek Cemetery.  One is a group shot and the other is a time lapse photo showing our “ghost.”  Very cool.  We had fun dressing up, met some awesome folks and had a tasty picnic lunch/dinner.  Overall, a great and spooky way to spend Halloween!

Group photo by Thomas Izaguirre

Ghost Photo by Christian Meade

Like the rest of the world, I too tend to “wake up” at the first of the year and try to go from 0 to 60 at the chime of midnight.

Like the rest of the world I’ll spend the next few weeks diligently trying to loose weight, learn a language, write a book, travel, blog more, enjoy family and jump out of an airplane – all at the same time. Ok, maybe not jump out of a plane.

But why do we do it? Begin every year with a, sometimes overwhelming, list?

I was wondering that this week as I blatantly avoided my gym due to it being packed to the gills with new-year’s-resolutioners. And yes, I’m aware that I too can be given that appellation – I am not a regular at my gym, no matter how much I may wish it otherwise.

I think it really may come down to nomenclature. New Year. In my head it is all about starting fresh. A new year, a new me. Tabula Rasa. The old me, the one who didn’t quite get things right, who gained 20lbs, who didn’t travel or read enough is gone. Now I can be a new me, a better me and the resolutions are just reminders of what the new me should look like.

What is interesting is that I had a discussion with a colleague whose take was fundamentally different. She saw the new year as an opportunity to learn from past mistakes. That each year builds on itself. While we talked about this it reminded me of a philosophical argument from years ago about how we look at laws and makes a very interesting parallel.

What I’m talking about is the infamous Dred Scott court decision (Dred Scott v. Sandford). What happened was that Dred Scott, a Virginia man born into slavery who sued for his freedom. While owned by a military officer, Scott travelled through and resided in Illinois and Wisconsin, both free states. He appealed to the court system that as he had been in those free territories, then he should, by rights, be free. The judge ruled “no” and Dred Scott was sent back to his master as property. A few years later, the 14th Amendment passed and courts began ruling the other way.

So here’s the question (and how it relates to my musing) was the Dred Scott decision wrong and the later courts got it right? Meaning, as my colleague promotes – are we are always moving ahead, learning, and therefore getting closer to some unforeseeable objective “better?” Or, is it like my view of the New Year – the “better” not really objective at all, but merely a reflection of our times and/or a reaction to where we are individually in our lives? As in, the Dred Scott decision was a reflection of our times and when times changed so did the court rulings. And, God-forbid, if slavery ever returned (and some would state variants still exist) that we would again decisions like the Dred Scott case.

When put in context of the legal case, my knee-jerk response is to lean towards philosophical optimism and agree with my colleague – we are in a state of constant improvement. And yet, I am loathe to let go of the artifice of starting fresh every January 1.

So…thinking about this, where do you find yourself in this new year?

And she didn’t disappoint.

There are people who are writers and there are people who are storytellers. It isn’t mutually exclusive, but you always know when you meet the latter. They are the ones who can hold a room in thrall when they speak. The ones who can talk about their trip to the drycleaner and you can’t help but get drawn in to what they say, become mesmerized by it and suddenly it is no longer a jaunt across town, but a grand adventure, as exciting and overwhelming as Jules Verne’s “Journey to the Center of the Earth.” And the best storytellers don’t just entertain you with their narratives; the best storytellers make the tale personal, not only to themselves, but to you, crafting an intimate experience.

Toni Morrison is one of those best storytellers. She spoke about how she and her sister practiced their reading and writing growing up. She crafted mental images of how they would form letters with sticks in the dirt and how their mother once caught them copying a word off of a billboard that was *ahem* not one that little girls should know. She reminded us of how mysterious and wonderful words were, and reminded us of that joy in exploring them. I caught myself thinking about my own childhood and how large a role books played in them.

I grew up overseas in the tiny island kingdom of Bahrain, off the coast of Saudi Arabia in the Arabian Gulf. It is a beautiful country and has grown and changed so much in these past few years. However, when I was a child I don’t recall there being very many libraries at all. At least, I don’t have any childhood memories of visiting one. But I do have vivid memories of visiting the bookstore. There was one that my family almost always went to. I remember it being small, with narrow aisles, but there were books everywhere, on shelves higher than I could reach, all the way to the ceiling. And they were on so many interesting things: animals, and oceans, ancient civilizations, mysteries and adventures and stories of so many different places and people! I recall being overwhelmed and so very excited by it. I thought, if I could have every book in the store, then I would know everything about the world. I know other kids would visit the toy store and beg for this toy or that toy. I have to admit, most of my begging took place in that bookstore. Just one more! I really NEED this book too. Please?

And then there were the National Geographic books. An aunt in the United States would send them to us. I have dim memories of barely being able to control myself when those boxes arrived. Boxes and boxes of books! I learned about animals and people of the African safari, the mystery King Tutankhamun’s tomb, how the ancient Incas and Aztecs lived and so much more. I believe that my current love of history (and obsession with the History Channel in all its iterations) comes from that early exposure. Of course, my fascination with books only became all the greater when in middle school my parents bought “the encyclopaedia set.” I don’t recall who created those 20+ volumes of books but I was in love. Thousands and thousands of articles, essays and entries on these amazing people and events. I couldn’t help myself. There were more than a few school assignments that ended up being hurriedly written in the wee hours of the morning because I had paused to look something up in “the encyclopaedia set” and one article mentioned something in another, and the second cross-referenced a third, and so I would go and read more and more until suddenly it was 2:00am and I still had a paper to write. But oh how I loved those volumes.

Books became a part of my personal culture and belief system. If you had a question, then a book is where you could find the answer; if you wanted to learn something, a book could teach you; and if you were just bored and wanted to discover something new and entertaining, then a book could take you there. Toni Morrison’s recollections reminded me of that belief; of that love. We get so caught up now in work and information and digital and electronic formats; television and computers and smartphones. And trust me, I’m no luddite – I love what technology has done to society and how much more accessible information has become. I have a 55 inch television, an iPhone, two gaming systems, and at least 3-4 computers in the house (granted, not all of them are working right now). But we get caught up in the need for the information, for what the words mean that sometimes, we forget how much fun the words can be.

Toni Morrison’s ALA speech made us laugh; it made us gasp; it entertained and educated; but most importantly, Toni Morrison reminded us that we can go back to that childhood joy we all discovered in books. With a little nudge we can be reminded (and SHOULD be reminded) that stories and books hold that creative spark of both intimacy and wonder, encompassing the gamut of human experience that unites us all.

Thank you Toni Morrison.