Volunteers for Israel
by Rochelle Marshall

Chicago, New York, L.A., Tennesee,
You came to Israel, just like me.
Excited and anxious to what? Work for free?
From Africa, Australia, and Mexico way
To clean toilets and shlep- Same food every day.
Not only that, We paid our own way.
Six in a room, on cost yet-oy vey.
At home, any food that I like
Fine dining (gourmet) or I go on strike.
If a dres doesn't fit when it comes from the mall
I give my tailor an emergency call.
So what am I doing in kaki that bags,
Without designer names etched on the tags?
A beautiful home and a pool, it's so nice.
All of life's comforts. My martini on ice.
My nails are all broken. My polish's a wreck.
No place to change cash and they won't take my check,
You need a card and there's only one phone.
Except for Debbie, who's had one grown.
And when that flas is raised very day
Something happens, it's like when I pray.
Why did we come here? It just doesn't make sense.
Could it be we're just stupid or dense?
We share one neshama, it's really quite plain.
There's nothing wrong, we're amazingly sane.
What else would push us to work with such zeal?
We don't look for bargains, but it's a great deal,
We touch it we breath it -- what else - ISRAEL.

This poem was written for my fellow volunteers, who like myself worked with devotion and fervor on this three-week program. I feel I must tell those unfamiliar with Sar-El about the opportunity available to work in army bases around Israe, doing vital work. While having a wonderful and fulfilling vacation.