Saturday

Saturday. I always liked Saturdays. I don't know why, really. When I was in school, Saturdays were important because they meant no school. But I really didn't mind going to school so it wasn't about that. Saturday was a day to do what chores I might have, which were few as I recall. And I ducked those most of the time. But I could sleep in so maybe that was it.

From the time I went into the Navy to a short period, maybe a year, before I retired Saturdays were often workdays. Even in high school, when I had a job, I often had to be there on Saturdays. Odd jobs, usher at a movie theater, bellhop, busboy; all meant Saturday was not a day off. In the Navy, I had weekend duty at least a quarter of the time in port and Saturday was a regular workday when out at sea. The 34 years with various telephone companies (all under the "Ma Bell" umbrella) meant at least one Saturday a month, sometimes two, was spent at work.

Saturdays at work were different than the regular work week, though. More laid back, quieter. Few demands. Well, not in those high school jobs of course, but the later ones. On the job you could catch up on some reading, attend to those things you put off during the week because of more pressing needs. Although there were rarely pressing needs on my job with the telco. In fact, there were rarely pressing needs on any job I ever had.

I sometimes look back and wonder if I was just lucky to fall into jobs where constant work wasn't a requirement. Or did I subconsciously plan it that way? I could never have dealt with a production line factory type job. I much preferred the jobs where there were spurts of high activity interspersed with longer (much longer) periods of light, or no, activity.

Now, of course, Saturday is just a day. Just like any other. No special meaning, no special purpose.


Saturn Devouring His Son, a disturbing portrait of the god Saturn consuming one of his children, was one of six works with which Goya decorated the dining room. According to Roman myth, it had been foretold that one of the sons of Saturn would overthrow him, just as he had overthrown his father, Caelus. To prevent this coming to pass, Saturn would eat each of his children as soon as they were born. His wife Ops eventually hid his sixth son, Jupiter, on the island of Crete, deceiving Saturn by offering a stone wrapped in swaddling in his place. Just as the prophecy had predicted, Jupiter eventually supplanted his father.