Carry On
| January 13, 2026In the world at large, people don’t understand the concept of eiruvin
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iruv building can be a contentious activity. In the world at large, people don’t understand the concept of eiruvin (“It’s a symbolic enclosure, physically represented by a boundary of poles and strings… what’s so difficult to understand?”). When they do understand, it creates an entirely new set of concerns. Will the neighborhood change? Will the poles be an eyesore? What’s the cost to the taxpayer? It takes lots of valuable time to explain the concept of eiruvin, produce proof that I am authorized to do this work, and reassure residents that the eiruv won’t negatively impact their lives.
That’s why I would rather avoid being recognized as an eiruv worker. Instead, I prefer to be mistaken for a regular cable company worker. Tzitzis and yarmulke notwithstanding, I dress like any utility worker. My cargo pants, work boots, and yellow shirt afford me a degree of invisibility in cities across the US. People assume I’m just another Verizon worker, and I can usually get my work done without a second glance from homeowners. Usually.
It was a 90-degree day in this large, metropolitan city, and while I sweating buckets, I was happy with the upgrades I was giving the local eiruv — enclosing some newer Jewish neighborhoods meant the eiruv was more inclusive than it had been just weeks before. Two more days of work and the eiruv would be ready, just in time for an upcoming Shabbos bris in the newly enclosed area.
I pulled up to the next utility pole on Valley Drive and stepped down from my truck, craning my neck upward while I squinted at the top of the pole in the bright sunlight. Wiping my forehead on the arm of my yellow reflective shirt, I began considering how to angle the U-guard against the pole to get the lechi situated.
Suddenly, a raspy voice interrupted my mental calculations. “ ’Scuse me,” said a woman’s voice. I spun around to find a stout, gray-haired woman, flowered apron tied on and hands on her sturdy hips. Her eyes were darting back and forth between my truck, parked on the curb in front of her home, and me. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I forced a smile.
“Good afternoon,” I said politely, peering upward at the pole again. Maybe if I looked busy enough, she would disappear back into her house.
No such luck. “Can I ask what you’re doin’, sir?” she continued pointedly.
“Uh…” I began, hoping for her to be distracted by a phone call.
No such luck. “You’re from Verizon, are you now?” she steamrolled on, gesturing to my truck, as if my vehicle (devoid of any logo) was concrete evidence for her hypothesis.
Not wanting to either confirm or deny this false accusation, I responded with a noncommittal “Er…”
“Well, I must say, it took you folks long enough to get out here and fix my phone service,” she went on. “A good three weeks I’ve been calling y’all to come down here and, mind you, it’s hard to call for repairs when your phone line’s gone and broke, don’t you agree, young man?”
“Uh, yes!” I said.
“Well now, I’m certainly glad someone understands what I’ve been through. I haven’t seen nobody for over three weeks!”
“Mmm,” I responded eloquently. I guess her phone wasn’t about to ring and send her back inside, but I needed to wrap up this exchange and attend to my lechi.
“Hashem, please get this woman out of here. I just want to finish this pole and move on!” I silently urged.
Tefillah accepted.
“Well now, isn’t warm out here today! I’ll be gettin’ back inside and lettin’ you do your work,” she continued. “I’m sure glad you’re here and I appreciate your work. G-d bless!” she finished.
I gave a weak smile as she turned around and marched back into her house.
Maybe my Verizon-worker getup had been a little too successful this time, I thought, as my heart rate returned to normal. But my eiruv work had hardly been interrupted. It looked like the community would, b’ezras Hashem, be able to “carry on” with their scheduled Shabbos plans.
*Locations have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.
(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1095)
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