by Ai-jen Poo | Sep 1, 2014 | featured
My grandmother worked in a clinic for government employees in Taiwan for over 40 years, first as a nurse and eventually as a clinic administrator. She has an energy about her; her spirit is incredibly active. Even when she’s simply listening, she’s completely engaged and taking everything in as if it holds the secrets of the universe. She’s been this way ever since I can remember. I believe it made her a wonderful nurse, leader and caregiver. She also never hesitated to offer wisdom: she urged me never to fear or avoid hardship, it’s always best to face it because it’s just part of life. And, no matter what, to always be kind and caring. “Caregiving is one of life’s greatest gifts.” And she didn’t mean receiving care, she meant being able to choose to give care to another person is a sign that you’re truly alive and connected to others. That ethic has kept her grounded, energized and joyful in her work and in life in general for 88 years and counting. I know many care workers today who live by that ethic, and I’m so grateful that one of them, Mrs. Sun, now supports my grandmother to live independently in her home in California near my uncle and sister. Ai-jen Poo is the Director of the National Domestic Workers Alliance and Co-director of the Caring Across Generations campaign...
by Janice Thom | Sep 1, 2014 | stories
My maternal grandfather, who couldn’t read or write and could do only enough arithmetic to not get cheated, ran his own soda company. In New Haven, he made and bottled soda and installed soda fountains. His wife, the only one of my grandparents to have been born here and the only one with much education, graduated from a business high school and did his books. My mother was the youngest of 6 – he got rid of his horses and carts, replacing them with trucks, just before she was born in 1921. My father’s parents did a variety of things, from running a kosher dairy store to farming in NJ. Mostly, they were in the rag trade and were union organizers for the Amalgamated Clothing Workers Union. The name “Dubinsky” was never utter in our house. Grandpa, who I met a very few times, would sit and eat in the window on Yom Kippur just to upset people. It worked. My parents, first generation American Jews, went to college on the GI Bill, volunteered for WWII, nearly moved to Canada to keep their son from being drafted into the horror that was the Vietnam War and were both members of their teachers’ union. And raised two kids who’ve done their best to honor all of...
by Harold Phillips | Sep 1, 2014 | stories
My grandfather, Joe “Graham” Phillips, worked road construction in Arizona and Nevada. He was, in fact, a founding member of the Operating Engineers local 14 (though that local number may have changed since his day.) He worked hard to get the job done, and he moved his family from job to job so he could support them. As my Dad said in his eulogy for his father, “One of my favorite authors has said that ‘A man has born to make his mark upon the land. He may be remembered by the change, however small, he has made.’ When Dad is laid to rest, of course there will be a marker – a small bit of stone. But Joe Phillips has a far greater monument… most places you travel in this wide state [Arizona], through Queen Creek tunnel, the Black Canyon Freeway, highway 70, you will be driving upon his ultimate monument – the roads he helped to build; Joe Phillips’ tracks upon this...
by Steven Adams | Sep 1, 2014 | stories
I don’t really know much about my grandpa because he passed away before I was born but I heard stories that my grandpa fought in the Korean War and after he was discharged he worked at the carbon plant in my neighborhood that still stands here today and he was the plant Forman on the day shift the stories I heard he was such a great man and my grandma was a stay at home mom raising my dad and 8 others she was a great women teaching us so much before she passed away in June i have such a great...
by Dave Robbins | Aug 31, 2014 | stories
My father, Jhan Robbins, son of Russian Jewish immigrants grew up in Brooklyn. His father Morris Rabinkoff, left Odessa in 1905, facing imprisonment for his involvement in the demonstrations on the Odessa steps in support of the Potempkin mutineers. Morris got on a NY bound ship at age 17 and never saw his parents again. Morris became a members of Hotel and Restaurant Workers Local 1 in Brooklyn. He made his living working as a waiter at various Brooklyn restaurants. My father Jhan had a full-time job while going to high school at the Brooklyn Freidman’s Department Store. He was a member of the Retail & Wholesale Clerks International Union. He became a steward at age 15. He and his fellow workers struck Friedman’s in 1934 to win an increase in their 25 cents per hour wage. A week into the strike, the owner Mr. Friedman, knocked on the Rabinkoff family apartment door late one night. My grandfather Morris opened the apartment door. Mr. Freidman introduced himself to my grandfather. “Mr. Rabinkoff, your son Jhan, he’s a smart boy. He could go places!” That was all my grandfather had to hear. Morris looked Freidman in the eye and yelled: “Drop dead!” and slammed the door in his face. The strike was successful. The workers got their raise and they won their union. My grandmother Anna, Morris’ wife worked at age nine with her brothers and sisters. They performed “homework”, textile work that was brought home from their parents factory. My fathers’s parents and my mother June, a member of the Newspaper Guild, instilled in me the power and the...
