Breaded Roses Abound

That's it, I'm throwing my hat over the fence. I've gotten the urge to blog over the past several weeks, but I haven't had an outlet until this very moment. This is a blog about how the simple things in life can be both the bread and the roses of our existence. It was inspired by a combination of Utah Phillips' song lyrics of the same name, a pregnancy craving for beer-battered deep-fried tofu, and the thought that a dear friend of mine should really start a blog. Then I realized, I'm a dear friend of mine, and anything smart and inspired that I've ever done has been inspired by the thought that someone else should do it. I'm someone else, to somebody.


Here are the song lyrics - about how we need not just bread to feed our physical body, but also roses to nourish our soul. It is, among many other things, a workers' movement song that I think captures an almost universal theme. The slogan appeals for both fair wages and dignified working conditions. Who doesn't want justice and dignity? So why not wrap our bread around our roses, and get fulfillment out of the everyday tasks that we all, at some point, willingly (ie family) or coerced (ie employment), signed up for? And if we're really into it, maybe we can deep-fry it.



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.