To the editor:

Decades ago I was working on a vacant house I recently bought in the area. On a January day much like today, I was pulling down the plaster and lathe from the 10′ ceiling alone in my vacant, un-heated, no electric power building. Dressed in old work clothes, covered in dust (yes, I was wearing a respirator), I took a break to bring the pails of rubble outside. A New York State police car came up the road and stopped next to the house. The window rolled down. The trooper inside said “I am looking for [I don’t remember the name he said]. I am going arrest him.” I thought it odd he would volunteer that information to a total stranger (me) for obvious reasons.

“Does he live in that house?” He asked pointing to the house I own, the one I am working on, the one I just walked out of. I remember feeling the hot air coming out of the trooper car’s open window and how nice it felt on my cold face. I replied “No.”

“Who owns it?” he asked.

“Ira Weinberg,” I replied.

“You work for him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied and then I added a long string of how this guy is an awful boss: he does not let me take lunch most times, I work late into the night, I don’t get paid, I can’t even go to the bathroom for long stretches, etc.

The young trooper (I never saw him again after this) did not like hearing that. He had a bunch of index cards bound by a butterfly clip and started to write down the phone numbers of agencies that can help workers who are not treated well by their bosses. I remember thinking to myself, “This isn’t going to end well.” After a bit of a pep talk on how I should not allow this kind of abuse, he said “OK, well I got to arrest [the name he mentioned]. You take care of you self and reach out to those agencies.”

“OK, thanks for the info,” I replied.

“What’s your name?” he asked before he left.

“Ira Weinberg,” I replied. He paused and looked very annoyed.

“I thought you said HIS name is ‘Ira Weinberg!'” he said, raising his voice just a drop while pointing again at my house.

I replied: “It is.” … pause … “I’m self employed” (with a big grin).

If this was a rhyming fairly tale the ending would be, “And without another word. he flipped me the bird and rolled up upon the hill.”

To all the LEOs out there: Thank you for keeping us safe even on the coldest of days. Your existence has a “battleship in being” effect on the bad guys no matter where you are. We thus live in peace.

Just a thought… and a laugh…

Ira Weinberg

Saranac Lake