That we are all every single one of us workers
seems entirely clear Ginny in the post office
Len at Hannafords Supermarket
every single person at Hannafords supermarket
my doctor Lawrence Kemp
cross between Greek TV star and medical professional
Devon Evangelical Cleaner Anibal good natured super
from the Dominican Republic who says No Problem
about anything even mice my friend Anita who kept my hair
looking like hair for a million years Jerry who plows
the driveway when it snows Delores, worthy of many poems,
she worked in bars for years, then cleaned. What people
don’t know don’t seem to understand, not really, is how
all our work is completely connected. How all our work is one.
no doubt all work is dignified when no one is exploited. unfulfilling work that doesn't satisfy the worker can be a prison sentence. I have a first generation friend Marty. soon after his family settled in Brooklyn, coming from Poland, his father landed his first job. his dad was an" egg candler". it was his job to hold eggs up to a lit candle to count how many yolks the eggs contained.he also checked to see if any of the eggs were fertilized, yolks were in good form or bloodied. when I met Marty's father, I extended my hand to shake his hand, his fingers were positioned as if they were holding something although they were empty. Marty caught my glance and whispered, "thousands and thousands and thousands were counted and yet, he complains about nothing".