Treason

The suns tentacles of light crept across the horizon, a new day yawned to life. Wearing my blue collar business suit, a worn out, faded blue jean jacket with matching slacks, a black t-shirt with the pits bleached from long days in the sun and my trusty old desert infantry boots, also well used, I flicked the butt of my burnt down cigarette into the gutter. It was 5:15 a.m. and already twenty weary souls stood outside the squat brick building whose doors would not open for at least another fifteen minutes. With a running of the bulls feel to whole scenario the gates parted and the mob was let in, crowded together there was standing room only, no max occupancy sign was posted but one gathered the feeling that if the fire marshal were to show up hell would follow.

This small outpost of muted aspirations was a labor center, a place where the desperate could congregate in hope of a meal ticket in exchange for a days worth of labor that the average American would scoff at even if offered excessive wages. Yet here we stood proudly lining up as if lemmings waiting for the enlightenment of the cliffs ahead. Truth is a hard thing to find and a harder subject to write about, but the truth is that these destitute citizens of a falling empire were not the filth you would expect to see on such a premises. If you were to turn on the news, mass media would blast you with facts such as the people losing their massive homes due to lay offs, raised mortgages and barely able to pay their brand new Cadillac S.U.V. payments. You might hear about government bailouts of large corporations who could not afford the monthly bonuses of their biggest earners. However I stood amidst the truth of the matter, the foundation of this new Rome was crumbling. Countries are said to be built by many different things and people according to the teller, but the fact that they are indeed built brick by laborious brick is often over looked. In ancient times it may have been easy as the builders were largely slaves and therefore deserved no recognition as without their masters no doubt would have never achieved such great monuments to civilization. The great Abraham Lincoln addressed Gettysburg stating that all men are created equal; today it seems to only be found on paper. I looked about me and saw the dregs of every generation, from the freshly out of high school to the long since retired. Clad for each of their own ideas of success, the most seasoned of the hardships beset upon we undergrads of society came in worn and torn outfits befitting the image of the downtrodden. Yet their were those in khaki slacks and pressed shirts, even those, mostly of the younger crowd, who wore the latest fashion of today’s pseudo-M.T.V. persuasion. The onlooker could observe that each get-up was intended to attract the type of work the wearer was hoping to draw. It was also visible in the crowd’s eyes they would settle for anything that might become available, including myself. We the people, that famous introduction summed the room up as a whole. All who had little to start with and less now gathered, we set our pride aside and stepped up to the plate.

I would like to tell you that this amazing visage of patriotism triumphed over evil and the seemingly Nazi work regime disintegrated before our great stand against oppression. But then this would be a fantasy and a white knight would slay this dragon known as poverty. The fact was it mattered not how you dressed or who showed up first or even who was the most fit, it came down to who knew who. At the back of my mind I couldn’t help thinking of this place as more or less a stinking slave market with the job givers giving only to those they knew would bend over the proverbial barrel and thank the masters later. This is the front lines now, the enemy is inside the gates and it is inside us. This once great nation led the world in creating the rights for the underdog, pioneering ideals such as women’s rights, labor laws, the abolishment of slavery and a united workers front. Now one need only open their eyes to see how the mighty have fallen. In these dire times honor is no longer a virtue taught to our children instead we squabble like dogs for the scraps thrown to us by those who have attained their positions by treachery and trickery.

The sun had rose high into the sky when again I stepped outside to smoke another cigarette, I lost the battle. I would not be able to contribute to my family’s well being and empty stomachs this day. There is a war being waged fellow citizens and it is high time we unite under the cause of the righteous again. I live to fight another day as does every man, woman and child (this being also a truth as a woman had brought in her babe not having a babysitter to watch the small one while she worked, I later found out that her and her husband had both come and whichever got a job the other would go home with the infant, divide and conquer) that stood beside me in the trenches of the modern work crisis. But how many battles must be lost before the few become the many and once again flailing in the waters of tyranny we stand under one flag and shout “Don’t Tread On Me!”.