In Philip Levine’s poem “what is work” the author takes an unpleasant personal experience of looking for work and turns it around and applies it to career dreams for his brother.
Levine suffers the indignity of waiting in the rain with others, when a low-paying job call he is responding to in the seems to be more like a “cattle call.” Job seekers are requested to report for an interview prior to the arrival of hiring personnel -- a situation brought about because the potential employer does not feel that anyone interested in working will show up at the designated opening time.
Levine sublimates his own physical (wet) and emotional turmoil (How dare they think that a poor man will not show on time?) with images of his singing-loving brother. He knows that his brother, a student of opera who studies German ‘so that he can sing Wagner’ is probably asleep having worked at a Cadillac plant all night.
The author’s frustration mellows with love toward his sibling and the hope is that his brother escapes from Cadillac, realizes his operatic dreams, and never ends up on a cattle call in pursuit of them.
Levine's dreams for his sibling are similar to the dream that Mike Lefevre (a character in Studs Terkel's book "Working")has for his son (xxxvii). Mike wants his
son to rise above him and work smart and not toil at hard labor.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Post # 2 Question 2
I am enjoying the Studs Terkel book, Working, finding it a wonderful walk back in
time. I especially loved the character of Mike Lefevre, the steel mill worker. His philosophy is particularly touching in that he says, “If my kid ever goes to college, I just want him to have a little respect, to realize that his dad is one of those somebodies.”
I heard that sentiment expressed many times while growing up in East New York, Brooklyn.
In the 1970’s I had many friends who had fathers working in tool shops, in garment
factories, as chefs, barbers, doctors, pub owners, airline mechanics and as mailmen. My schoolmates and I attended St. Michael’s and socialized with one another after class as well as on weekends.
With the exception of two or three mothers who taught in that same school (part-time)
or worked in the cafeteria, the moms were all at home waiting for our return. That’s
a major change from today where school age children are alone until mothers return from work.
St. Michael’s still stands today. However, many of the factories near the school have shown drastic transformations. They are now self-storage businesses, a “no-tell motel,” and discount furniture stores. Other locations have become vacant with “For-Sale” signs prominently posted. The factories that supported my classmates are sadly no more.
In the reading of Terkel’s book, I also found the story of the stewardess, Terry Mason, of special interest. While growing up I did not have any friends who aspired to this career, and for good reason. Many of my female contemporaries had dads who worked for the airlines and spoke of a stewardess role in a less than appealing way. Their supply of jokes about stewardess exceeded the blonde jokes of today. An example of one of the demeaning jokes concerned a pilot’s announcement to passengers on a plane’s loudspeaker, saying “sirs now is the time to pick up your tray and upright your stewardess.”
I recall seeing “stews” in my neighborhood with identical Clairol cuts, the same lipstick, and same plastic smiles. I feel it tragic that farm families in the mid-west were buying into the concept of a glamorous travel-related opportunity for their children. At the same time, careers as teachers, librarians, or other employment necessitating a solid education was not considered worthy of bragging about in small town USA.
Has the role and public persona of stewardess (now flight attendants) changed for the better? I believe so. Such personnel on today’s airlines are have lost the “cookie cutter” image and are able to exhibit greater individualism. They are no longer beverage servers with forced smiles. Pay scales have additionally made the field more attractive, and those jokes, if not completely gone are, at least, hardly ever told.
In reading Terkel’s book and and contrasting “then” and “now,” I also believe our working life has become worse with the heavy reliance on our equal joy and curse…computer technology. More is expected of us in the workplace, time is sacred and we have been pressured into thinking that each and every minute must be productive. Employers insist on it. It seems to me that in the 1970s there was always time that could be taken for a pleasurable recap of the sport page or moments to chat about major events chronicled in the local newspapers. That appears to have changed. Now, like computers, we also find ourselves programmed from the time we get to work until rushing out to the street at closing. We have become the machines.
time. I especially loved the character of Mike Lefevre, the steel mill worker. His philosophy is particularly touching in that he says, “If my kid ever goes to college, I just want him to have a little respect, to realize that his dad is one of those somebodies.”
I heard that sentiment expressed many times while growing up in East New York, Brooklyn.
In the 1970’s I had many friends who had fathers working in tool shops, in garment
factories, as chefs, barbers, doctors, pub owners, airline mechanics and as mailmen. My schoolmates and I attended St. Michael’s and socialized with one another after class as well as on weekends.
With the exception of two or three mothers who taught in that same school (part-time)
or worked in the cafeteria, the moms were all at home waiting for our return. That’s
a major change from today where school age children are alone until mothers return from work.
St. Michael’s still stands today. However, many of the factories near the school have shown drastic transformations. They are now self-storage businesses, a “no-tell motel,” and discount furniture stores. Other locations have become vacant with “For-Sale” signs prominently posted. The factories that supported my classmates are sadly no more.
In the reading of Terkel’s book, I also found the story of the stewardess, Terry Mason, of special interest. While growing up I did not have any friends who aspired to this career, and for good reason. Many of my female contemporaries had dads who worked for the airlines and spoke of a stewardess role in a less than appealing way. Their supply of jokes about stewardess exceeded the blonde jokes of today. An example of one of the demeaning jokes concerned a pilot’s announcement to passengers on a plane’s loudspeaker, saying “sirs now is the time to pick up your tray and upright your stewardess.”
I recall seeing “stews” in my neighborhood with identical Clairol cuts, the same lipstick, and same plastic smiles. I feel it tragic that farm families in the mid-west were buying into the concept of a glamorous travel-related opportunity for their children. At the same time, careers as teachers, librarians, or other employment necessitating a solid education was not considered worthy of bragging about in small town USA.
Has the role and public persona of stewardess (now flight attendants) changed for the better? I believe so. Such personnel on today’s airlines are have lost the “cookie cutter” image and are able to exhibit greater individualism. They are no longer beverage servers with forced smiles. Pay scales have additionally made the field more attractive, and those jokes, if not completely gone are, at least, hardly ever told.
In reading Terkel’s book and and contrasting “then” and “now,” I also believe our working life has become worse with the heavy reliance on our equal joy and curse…computer technology. More is expected of us in the workplace, time is sacred and we have been pressured into thinking that each and every minute must be productive. Employers insist on it. It seems to me that in the 1970s there was always time that could be taken for a pleasurable recap of the sport page or moments to chat about major events chronicled in the local newspapers. That appears to have changed. Now, like computers, we also find ourselves programmed from the time we get to work until rushing out to the street at closing. We have become the machines.
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