Manufactured Moments

I've held three jobs in my life that would qualify as "line work," all of them in my teens.  In one, I made waterbed rails for my friend's company, pulling foam and faux leather taut over pine skeletons, so that restless voyagers dreaming aboard their watery inland boats might not fall overboard between REM cycles.

The two remaining line jobs were in the kitchens of local health facilities, where I (mostly) made sure that I was assembling a medically-sound meal for the patients and residents.  I say "mostly" because what teen who has been nursed on Cap'n Crunch and Cheetos really gets the importance of a low-sodium diet?

Although a person could make a pretty decent--if not cynical--argument that education now teeters on following the manufacturing model, my assembly-line days at work are barely visible in my middle-aged rear-view mirror, reduced to vague memories of pale chicken breasts cuddling up with low-salt green beans.


And yet, . . . .

And yet, there is ample evidence surrounding me that humans love the manufacturing model and lean heavily on it, even when not drawing an income from it.

Today, I wake to summer, not because the earth has tilted just so, but because a very-much manufactured and formulaic calendar tells me it is summer.  Having fulfilled my work contract for the year, I woke today with lightness and a much more casual attire, my bare feet and pasty legs amply featured.

My Audubon Daily Desk Calendar may say "May 29, 2013" but I know that this actually is code for "WAHOOOO!  I'm free!  I'm free!"  And, like any line worker worth her weight in gold, I adjust accordingly, easily switching gears from "Which brown pants should I wear today?" to "Is there enough air in my tires to hit the trails?"

These life cycles--whether manufactured or ethereal--are welcomed chapters in our lives' instruction books.  Humans (and every other thing, for that matter) crave and need these rhythms, these signals that say "Today is different from yesterday.  Take note." 

Frankly,  I could not survive--more or less thrive--without them.