Essay by Daniel P Collins, Sr. – Naples, Florida
My dad was a fireman in downtown Chicago for forty-three years. His rise from fireman to Division Marshall over the politicians determined obstructions was aided by the prayers of his favorite charity; The Little Sisters of the Poor. Sister Bertha and Sister Brigid would show up on pay day and dad would “encourage” all to contribute.
On a freezing Winter day, the nuns came in and Dad told them to warm their feet at the glowing pot belly iron furnace. When they put their feet out to warm their toes, Dad noticed each had large holes in the soles of their shoes. He called his Jewish friend Harry Gold… “Harry, I’ve got two nuns over here with holes in their shoes. If I buy one pair, will you pick up the other?”
“Bring them over, Chief”, said Harry the shoemaker.
This inaugurated a bi-weekly tradition. The nuns would visit the firehouse, Dad would ask what happened to their new shoes. The nuns would reveal they had given the new shoes to “someone who needed them more”. Dad and Harry would split the cost. And Harry never hesitated.
Do I think this son of Jacob “has a place in Heaven? You bet. I think he’s a “shoe-in”!