The bakery buzzed. Round cakes were cut out of rectangular sheets, icing was smeared by experienced hands, floral designs emerged magically from cloth bags ,Life in a Loaf,My job was to lift the warm challahs from the wax paper and put them into boxes. Twelve challahs to a box. And then to fill orders: Sharon Manor, 50 challahs. Four boxes + two. Fit them into four boxes. Done.
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I
t was the summer of 1986.
I was 14 years old spending the summer with my family atCampMorris learning in the mesivta program while boarding at home.
Perhaps it was a desire to transition from boyhood to manhood perhaps an itch to work with my hands perhaps — most probably — it was a desire for a new stereo player that motivated me. But when my older brother offered me the opportunity to work late Thursday nights at a local bakery I readily accepted.
He had worked at the bakery the previous summer. He was doing me a favor by getting me the job the owner was doing him a favor by letting me in…
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