My dad was a two job guy. We lived in a representative, working class
neighborhood in Brooklyn, which was to me, the paradise of the world.
Representative I learned years later meant not just Jewish people, like
us, but an equal mix of almost everything else. The working class is
obvious.
My dad worked at a brokerage house on Wall Street as a runner from 9 to
3. That was his first job. His second job was at the Morgan Annex
branch of the US Post Office, in mid-town Manhattan. He had started at
the PO as a teen-ager, and was in it for the longest possible haul, a
modest pension being the carrot at the end of his rainbow. His hours
on that job were 4 pm to mid-night. He rode the subway to work. He
never owned a car. Once in a long while he got driven home.
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Nathan's
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