Back when I was an unemployed, freshly dry junkie - I worked many, if not most, of the bottom of the barrel jobs offered to the desolate of the Twin Cities. Most interesting, was probably my 3 month stint as a Kirby Vaccuum salesman.
Aweful, exhausting, soul-wrenching work this was, bullshitting people into spending way too much money on a vaccuum.
Very shortly, it became that job where everyday was supposed to be my last.
I used to say, "This is it! After today I'm quitting. I don't care if I get evicted; I'm moving back to Israel to work on a pomegranate farm!"
Of course I ended up settling for a job as an interior apartment painter instead. A week later once my driver's liscense was revoked and I was fired.
I will not go into the details of my relapse into darkness, jail, despondency, self pity, rehabilitation, surrender, humility, and rebirth. Just know that eventually I got my shit together.
So here now, a handful of years later, I find myself standing on the front porch of Eytan Urieli's moshav home -- staring out over the acres of pomegranate groves which stretch halfway across the horizon.
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