BY KRISTA RAMSEY The Cincinnati Enquirer It is Elvis Presley tapes that Sarah buys, and the coffee that comes in the can with the red label. They are small pleasures, but important ones, for Sarah pays for them with her own wages. Before 1973, there were no wages for Sarah, and no work. From childhood until her late 30s, she lived in a state hospital for people with mental disabilities. She remembers more about it than she cares to. It was, she says, ''a little bit awful.'' Back then, there was so much time. Too much time. An endless string of lonely days, and so little to do. It is hardly like her life now, she says, checking the red watch she wears on her left wrist.
For the last 24 years, Sarah has worked at Jewish Vocational Service in Bond Hill. ''Figure it out,'' she says. ''Since 1973, I have been here. On time.'' Some days, depending on the work available, Sarah constructs boxes or counts out poker chips for packaging. Some days, she gets inky labeling envelopes. ''I do everything here,'' she says matter-of-factly. One gets the feeling that Sarah believes the place could not run without her.
Paychecks and prideJewish Vocational Service has been a place of work - of paychecks, inky fingers and pride - for 57 years. It opened in 1940 to locate employment for Jewish refugees from Germany. Eventually, its goal became to ensure that there was a job for any member of the Jewish community who needed one. For people with mental and physical disabilities. The elderly. Russian emigres. Veterans. In recent years, middle managers affected by downsizing.Since 1968, many of its programs have served Jews and non-Jews alike. Today, more than 3,000 people pass through its programs each year. Some have master's degrees and overflowing resumes, coming simply to brush up on interview skills. Others, like Sarah, come with no experience, but an eagerness to learn how to punch a time clock, pack a lunch, make a living. ''The goal is to help people obtain dignity through work,'' says Bernard S. Rosenthal, executive director. At the Bond Hill site, there is the clear feel of a factory, with subcontracted work, shifts of employees arriving throughout the day, and small assembly lines. The jobs seem to consist of simple tasks - sorting, counting, labeling - until one notices that one labeler is blind, another mentally retarded, a third autistic. Most have struggled mightily to learn their work. Besides their struggle, what the workers have in common is that their lives are better, richer, more meaningful because of Jewish Vocational Service. Entering the 21st century, the United States is battling the issue of under-skilled workers. The Jewish Vocational Service has been offering its own quiet solutions for nearly six decades. Tomorrow the Jewish Federation of Cincinnati holds Super Sunday, its annual fund-raiser. Last year, it raised more than $930,000 for scholarships, meals for the elderly, emigre resettlement, and employment services. The Jewish Vocational Service is a prime beneficiary, receiving more than $250,000 last year. Tomorrow, the telephone will ring in some 6,000 Tristate households, and a Federation volunteer will ask for a contribution. If it rings in your household, please remember Sarah. Sarah, who lived 30 years without hope. Sarah, who now lives in her own apartment and takes the bus to downtown festivals, paying her way with money she has earned herself. ''A lot of what we do, to a lot of givers, is an abstraction,'' says Mr. Rosenthal, the director. ''And many, many people never visit us.'' They should. We all should. It's time we move beyond abstraction, to aid real and wonderful workers like Sarah. Krista Ramsey's column appears on Saturdays. Write her at 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati 45202.
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