Suddenly, a couple of young men started singing Rolling Stones songs.  

“I can’t get no Satisfaction…”

One by one, people joined in, and soon, the entire train car was filled with people singing along.

Every Labor Day, I see cookouts and long weekends. This year, I found myself thinking about something else entirely: the people whose work built the world we enjoy, and one man who reminded me why that matters.

It’s a funny feeling to realize you’re afraid the people closest to you will judge your work. In the past, I wrote without fear, sending query letters left and right. I received more rejection letters than I care to admit, but I never let it hinder me. I’d cross that publication off my list and move on. Onward!

The psychology isn’t complex: my Facebook is filled with people I know personally. Strangers can reject me all day long, but friends and family? 

Terrifying!

When I was twelve, I was a latchkey kid—like most of us Gen Xers. Being home alone or at a friend’s house without adult supervision wasn’t unusual. One day, I was at my friend Kitty’s house, just the two of us. For some reason, we decided to bake something.

We were responsible kids, so Kitty called her mom at work and asked for permission. Her mom said yes. (Again, Gen Xers.)

We browsed through Kitty’s mom’s many recipe books and settled on pumpkin pie. It must have been just after Halloween, because Kitty had a pumpkin. Real pumpkin pie—how hard could it be?

After the guide finished her talk, we made our way toward the canopied tables set for lunch. As we walked, the guide began pointing out some old machinery. That’s when I first heard her voice.

I don’t think she meant for us to hear it, but there it was: “Ah yes, the rusted machinery tour—every girl’s dream when she books Tuscany.”

My husband giggled and softly agreed, “Right?”

That’s when the three of us—me, my husband, and the voice—looked at each other and grinned. We all laughed and kept walking.