Bread and Roses, Employment and Chronic Illness Blog: NHBPM Day 22 ~ Spookaloo

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

NHBPM Day 22 ~ Spookaloo

This link is a rerun, but appropriate since I'm on my way to Spokane (aka "the can", "spo-compton", and, per Utah Phillips (and me in my head when I was younger, driving and walking some of the streets in this song, "spookaloo").

Plus a bonus:

This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J

I am also participating in my Turtle Medicine Blog.

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It is common to blog about illness, but far less common to blog about discrimination. But discrimination is part or has been a part of a chronically ill life for more than a small number of people. Especially for those of us that are high functioning enough to try to comingle with the healthy working world. I got my job back, but had to sacrifice a lot of money and recovery for that outcome. And I am back. No one 'wins' a discrimination case, and no one benefits, but it is possible to survive it and to have some bits of your life restored. It isn't always worth your health to fight for what's right, but if you do or you have to.....YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Keep on swimming, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Good workers and good people are victimized every day---hold your head high and take care of yourself.

Bread and Roses

By James Openheim

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses.

http://www.columbia.edu/~melissa/petronella/songs/bread-roses.html

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Tuesday, November 22, 2011

NHBPM Day 22 ~ Spookaloo

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