Labor For Us

Grateful

When the king tide threatened to engulf the beachfront restaurant, we did what entitle people do when danger lurks.

We became voyeurs. We got a table by the window and watched as the waves washed against them, wondering, as we ate eggs and bacon, whether they would hold.

Meanwhile, people who had been struggling with the water since dawn, continued sweeping the tidal water from the esplanade. Even though it was clear they couldn’t stay ahead of the swells, they continued sweeping.

And we continued eating, albeit often finding ourselves pausing with a mouthful while we watched them get drenched and knocked around.

If ever there was an illustration of nobless oblige, it was us at that surf-side window.

As we were leaving, the tide was beginning to recede and the windows had held.

On our way out, we had the temerity to stop and tell the manager we hoped those hard working people were going to get a shower, dry clothes, and as hearty a breakfast as we just enjoyed. He was too well trained to tell us what he must have thought of our Marie Antionette, “let them eat cake,” suggestion. He smiled and assured us they would get all of that.

I was spellbound by the spectacle of what we’re told climate change will make routine. I had a good breakfast too.

The world is unjust, unequal, unfair. And coming unglued.