The people who showed up yesterday morning to shovel snow at the University of Minnesota’s TCF stadium were willing to do some physical labor in the great tradition of John Henry – a character out of folklore who generated a variety of songs about man’s unquenchable spirit in the face of a challenge from the steam drill.

Unfortunately, some of yesterday’s shovelers waited through the morning, and left in frustration before doing any actual work.

John Henry simply beat the steam drill with brute strength, and then he laid down his hammer and he died. Tough wages. But brute strength won’t help you overcome a mismatch between available workers and piles of snow in the absence of a plan that can quickly put them together. That’s a real heartbreaker.

When John Henry heard about the Vikings,
playin’ in the winter’s cold.
Well he picked up a shovel and his parka and a hat
Said Shovel’s gonna bring some Christmas gold, Lord, Lord.
Shovel’s gonna bring some Christmas gold.

The captain said to John Henry
You can wait over there in that line.
With your shovel and your parka and your hat, Lord Lord
You can wait ‘til it’s shovelin’ time.

John Henry said to the captain
I’m freezing and I’m ready to go
Before I’ll wait and stand and get frostbite on my hand,
I would die with my shovel in the snow

Now the captain said to John Henry
Just an hour more and maybe you’ll begin,
There’s a form you gotta sign and another friggin’ line
To endure before your shovel’s suckin’ wind, Lord Lord
To endure before your shovel’s suckin’ wind.

Now the planners that did those logistics
Meant to organize the snow removin’ troops
But so many came to town, when that sun was goin’ down
Poor John Henry hadn’t turned a single scoop

Now John Henry had dug snowy mountains.
From Duluth to Saskatoon and on to Nome
But he never dug that day where the Golden Gophers play.
He just waited ‘til they told him to go home, Lord Lord.
He waited ’til they told him to go home.

When have you been victorious against the machine?

There are great songs about September (September Song, See you in September) and June (June is Bustin’ Out All Over, June in January) and April (April in Paris, I’ll Remember April), but few about October. Yet October is a beautiful month! We start with some of the mildness of late summer and loads of crazy color, wade through the pleasant aerobic rustle of raking the yard, drink cider, eat apple pastries, go on hay rides, and finish with kids in wild costumes eating enough tiny candy bars to make themselves sick! And there’s always a chance we’ll get a snowstorm somewhere in the middle of it. What other month has that range?

There is a tune called “October Song” written by Robin Williamson and performed by the Incredible String Band. Incredibly, the word “October” appears only once in the lyrics, which are otherwise about briars and fallen leaves, the fickleness of time and murder. Cheery. But it pales in comparison to the song “October”, by a North Carolina band with the uplifting name “Collapsis”.

And I never thought we’d break this ground.
Fall down, hit the ground, don’t make a sound.
It’s been nothing more than a big cheep thrill.
Yeah yeah this is my October.
Let me die.

What’s the problem? I know everything is dying right now, but do we have to focus on that? Is the “Oct” in October too reminiscent of the slithery, scary octopus? Are there not enough October rhymes? Can’t anyone come up with a hopeful ditty about October?

Apparently not. I just tried to invent a happy-go-lucky lyric with October in the text and in the very first verse it took a detour into the miserable lonesome cowboy-in-recovery genre and Merle Haggard demanded that I let him drawl it out.

This year has been a monster
and I’ve spent it on a binge.
From New Year’s through September
I did stuff that makes me cringe.

I’m askin’ you to help me
As I fight my private wars.
I want you by the bonfire
Should I slip and beg for ‘smores.

Oh well.

What’s your favorite thing about October?