Labor Day Memories and Inspiration
Dear Friends, When I served as a congregational rabbi, each Labor Day weekend I would share the following poem by Carl Sandburg during Shabbat/Sabbath services: FISH CRIER I KNOW a Jew fish crier down on Maxwell Street with a voice like a north wind blowing over corn stubble in January. He dangles herring before prospective customers evincing a joy identical with that of Pavlowa dancing. His face is that of a man terribly glad to be selling fish, terribly glad that God made fish, and customers to whom he may call his wares, from a pushcart. I share this because it reminded me of the stories that my parents would tell about the jobs their parents had. As I recall, (my older brothers, who may be reading this, could fact check me), my paternal grandfather had a wagon or pushcart and would sell coal in the winter and ice in the summer. I suspect that...