Shabbat Table Talk from the desk of Rabbi Alexander Seinfeld
Nov 1-2, 2024 • 1 Mar Cheshvan 5785 • Noach (Gen 6-11).
In memory of Jeremy Dossetter (Yermiyahu Matan) z''l, whose 7th yahrzeit was observed this week.
In memory of Jeremy Dossetter (Yermiyahu Matan) z''l, whose 7th yahrzeit was observed this week.
I recently had the opportunity to spend six hours in the City Department of Planning.
The first five hours were merely waiting for our turn at the Zoning Commission meeting.
What a blessing to have a laptop (and plenty to do with it)!
During one of my writing breaks, I wandered around the lobby there on the 5th floor and happened upon a pile of stapled copies, obviously left for the public to read and/or take. The cover sheet:
It is a monumental record that can only be fully appreciated if you are holding it in your hands. It would be very difficult for a mere mortal like me to fairly represent the contents of this hundred-page autobiography. Mr. Murphy has been blessed with either a photographic memory or the self-discipline to keep a meticulous journal for fifty years.
The first five hours were merely waiting for our turn at the Zoning Commission meeting.
What a blessing to have a laptop (and plenty to do with it)!
During one of my writing breaks, I wandered around the lobby there on the 5th floor and happened upon a pile of stapled copies, obviously left for the public to read and/or take. The cover sheet:
MEMORIES OF A 50-YEAR CAREER
Frank J. Murphy's Journey Through the Transportation Profession
From 1974 to 2024
Frank J. Murphy's Journey Through the Transportation Profession
From 1974 to 2024
It is a monumental record that can only be fully appreciated if you are holding it in your hands. It would be very difficult for a mere mortal like me to fairly represent the contents of this hundred-page autobiography. Mr. Murphy has been blessed with either a photographic memory or the self-discipline to keep a meticulous journal for fifty years.
But here are a few impressions:
• There may not be a single road, crosswalk, traffic light, or stop sign in the City of Baltimore that doesn't have Frank J. Murphy's fingerprints on it.
• There is no bravado - merely a happy account of his journey both horizontally and vertically through a civil engineering career: gratitude for landing in a career that he could continuously find challenging and meaningful for fifty years.
• He's multi-dimensional - the packet included a photo from the office holiday party showing him playing electric bass.
While I stood there perusing the tome, my immersion in his fifty-year transportation journey was interrupted when a door nearby suddenly opened.
A man carrying a small briefcase silently and rather swiftly exited, walking past me toward the elevators, some fifty feet away (a foot for every year of FJM's career?)...
• There may not be a single road, crosswalk, traffic light, or stop sign in the City of Baltimore that doesn't have Frank J. Murphy's fingerprints on it.
• There is no bravado - merely a happy account of his journey both horizontally and vertically through a civil engineering career: gratitude for landing in a career that he could continuously find challenging and meaningful for fifty years.
• He's multi-dimensional - the packet included a photo from the office holiday party showing him playing electric bass.
While I stood there perusing the tome, my immersion in his fifty-year transportation journey was interrupted when a door nearby suddenly opened.
A man carrying a small briefcase silently and rather swiftly exited, walking past me toward the elevators, some fifty feet away (a foot for every year of FJM's career?)...
While awaiting the lift, the man looked back towards me. Was this indeed he? The legendary Frank J. Murphy himself? The photo on the document was a younger man with a goatee and the man by the elevator was older and clean-shaven. But still....
Our eyes met. I put on my best inquisitive expression and pointed to the autobiography, trying to ask across the fifty-foot divide, "Is this indeed you?"
He made no motion of his head, but if I'm not mistaken, his eyes were smiling. And then as suddenly as he had appeared, he stepped into the elevator and was gone.
Most of us can live in a city for an entire lifetime and never have a clue who actually designed and facilitated all of that flow of traffic. Even when something you don't like appears and you'd like to know whom to blame, it's always just "The City."
But if we're honest, we should admit that most of the time, things do work, and we never have a personal connection to anyone who actually created that functional design.
Question for your table: At what point does a mere civil servant become a hero?
Shabbat Shalom
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