Each year, Labor Day is signified by two dissimilar events. First, it is generally regarded as the end of summer. That time where the weather starts to turn cooler and we’re given one last three-day weekend before the busy fall and winter begin with the holidays just around the corner. I have often found it strange that we have this holiday to begin with. Never having been pregnant myself and watching my wife go through it six times, I cannot for the life of me see why we would celebrate the pain a woman goes through during child birth. But who am I to argue with an extra day off to hang out and watch baseball?


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