DISJOINTED SUNDAY?

     It began unusually when I had trouble finding the street to the back door of the shelter. I was taking deviled eggs and two bags of apples, so I wanted easy access to the kitchen. When I did park by the back door, Slick was there, cleaning off the porch. His eyes homed right in on the platter of eggs, "So it's you!"

      "It is. It surely is."

      He carried all the heavy stuff up the stairs and inside for me. He pointed out a shady spot behind the building where I could park, but I chose the shade of an old oak tree out front.

      Joey was skinning chicken at the meat sink, as he often is, and I was working on 37 sack lunches. I had the 74 sandwiches about half done when Joey noticed that we were out of 50-gallon trash bags and sandwich bags! We searched our brains for a solution—who could go? In the end, only I could go, and there is no grocery store "in town."

      Naturally, the route I chose took me past a huge church that was just letting out... but eventually I got our bag needs met and returned to the kitchen. My sandwiches were right where I left them—no magic genie, no fairies, nothing.

      Joey let the pre-release folks into the dining room 10 minutes early today, catching me completely by surprise. I was not ready to help him; I had not cut up the apples I'd taken, and I was a bit miffed to see all those people coming in early! It took a few minutes, but I caught up. The eggs and apples went over very well.

      Joey made a huge pan of mac 'n cheese in the oven. It had texture, the way I remember it from long ago. I wanted some! I didn't get any...

      Anna called. Joey said, "Miss Joy, your relief is on the way!" That was especially good news because he'd told me he needed 30 PBJs and I wasn't even finished with the 37 sack lunches. So I got to leave shortly after noon, and Anna finished the lunches and the PBJs.

      Joey's report on school was as disjointed as everything else. He remembered most of  the six words he'd been tested on last week, but he forgot to bring in his new list. He said he had to work really hard on the first list; I've no idea how his test came out. Slick wasn't very encouraging. Said he was almost finished with his GED when he was sent to the pre-release program. Said it had taken him nearly 2 years. Thought he might have to start over...

      Got thankful?

FATHER'S DAY

      School is IN! Joey met me with a long report on school. His testing had shown him to be reading at a 4th-grade level; but, they put him in a quiet room and retested him. He scored 10th grade! Kid needs quiet. I'm developing a deep respect for the people who administer this GED program.

       So Joey has a spelling test this week! He has five words to learn. He must spell them, use them in a sentence, and give their definitions. Two of the words are "clothes," and "because." He went online to get definitions. He hopes to make an 88. I told him he'll surely make 100. Say a prayer.

      ALSO—Joey went to a concert this week and saw the Temptations! Totally by accident, he was given a free ticket. Yes, Joey, there is a Santa Claus. 
      Today I took vegetables to the kitchen. Investing in fresh heads of broccoli and cauliflower was a gamble, but to my delight the guys loved it. We served a mix of the florets and carrot sticks in little bowls. Some even asked for seconds—just makes a mama proud.

       Joey says the pre-release guys eat better than the shelter's homeless. Sadly, our homeless have little experience with fruits and vegetables. One fellow had to come to the dining room early for a cup of coffee. Said something about his blood sugar dropping. And you know, there's a vial or two of insulin in the refrigerator. Hard times.

       Joey was whipping up a batch of tuna salad when I got there. He was soon panicking about needing to mop the dining room, so I took over the tuna salad. He gave me explicit instructions and taste tested it: "more sugar, more relish, more spice mix." Finally, it passed muster.

       Then I made a batch of deviled eggs. The guys loved them! I know, I know... they aren't there to be pampered. Joey says they stay for 6 months on average, in the work-release program. The faces change, but slowly, and one by one. There's new guy today; he's got a full beard. Part of it is braided, and the rest is just a mess.

       Elizabeth worked the lunch shift with Joey yesterday. Joey reports that the folks she serves really enjoy having her around. She does have an infectious smile. Anyway, she made the sack lunches, so we only needed another 14 when I got there. That was easy!

       I made up ten PBJ sacks for the street folks.

       Joey and I wished all the dads a happy Father's Day. They liked that. One young fella grinned slyly and said, "I'm waiting for the DNA results." When the last lunch was over, two men lingered at the counter until Joey called my attention to them. They just wanted to thank me. How sweet is that?

       "And one more thing," they said, "we're fathers," giving me expectant eyes.

        "Oh! Happy Father's Day!"

JUNE 13

       When I got to the kitchen today, Joey was hard at work skinning raw chicken. I wanted to grab an apron and get started, but I had to stand there at least 5 minutes while he gave me the latest on school. He is so excited about school! His testing showed enough reading deficit to merit him a spot in the smaller class—where he will get more one-on-one help. We're both excited about that. Help is good! So the testing and form filling out is finished. Tomorrow he actually goes for his first real class. He says he can't believe he's actually going to school, and he can't wait to get there!

        I was four hours in the kitchen today! Anna came in about 30 minutes before I left, and took over. What a relief! She took the pbj duty today, and plenty of others, I'm sure. I was late leaving because I finally asked Joey what was he going to do with those turning-black cabbages in the big refrigerator? They'd been in there for weeks. I volunteered to cook them.  "Are you going to cook the leaves?" he asked.

        "It's all leaves, Joey," I said. "Watch." I stepped over to the meat sink. "Here. We'll have cabbage 101 class." Joey loves words; he loves learning, and he watched intently as I peeled away the first, second, 10th leaves of the cabbage. Then I cut one in half and he noted that it was, indeed, all leaves. We had a full discussion, later, about ignorance (I was claiming some), and he thought it was a demeaning thing. But now he knows… it's just "not knowing," and all of us are ignorant on many levels. I love the way he soaks up every little thing.

        Cabbage. I'll bet you have no clue how much yield comes from 10 cabbages—how big their cooking pots are, how much butter, celery seed, salt and pepper are needed for them. Neither did I. Ignorant.

        I burned a few leaves in the first pot. Salvaging 5 pounds of cooked cabbage from 4 little burned leaves is no fun, but we did it. And that was just the first batch. The second batch went much more smoothly.

        There was need of 54 sandwiches (27 sack lunches). Preparing those has become labor. I no longer linger over each sandwich, each snack, each cookie and drink, to ask myself how I would feel if given this lunch. I did make a mental note today that if I were given one, I'd want the one with the Moon Pie and Big Orange drink…

        I'm feeling much more at ease with our people. Today, after all the pre-lease guys had taken a lunch and sat down, then I took the clipboard, went out into the lunchroom, asked them their names, and checked them off. I felt as if I were walking among friends. I've no idea what crimes they've committed, and I don't care. They are here because they have earned the right to be here, and that's enough. Slick abides. I asked him if he would mind washing out the nasty cabbage container, and after lunch he cleaned it well, happy to do so. He's no idea that it gives me pleasure to know him, and to be able to ask him such a thing. I called him "Hairy." Everybody chuckled. It's not so quiet in there anymore.

        I made a big pan of fruit salad again today. And GUESS WHAT??? I opened TWO huge cans by myself! Joey was astonished! Me too! I was cussing that @#% can opener and WHAM, it opened my can. Joey said I should talk to it like that again, so it would open the second can. He's so fun.

        The little boy came for lunch again today. He took a plate with a hotdog, baked beans and salad. He was so happy to get a hotdog! Cute little guy… why do children have to live in homeless shelters? Shouldn't we have a law about that, or something?

        One of the homeless was a tall, middle-aged man who'd come several hundred miles on a girl-friend mission and found himself without a place to stay. I'm thinking his memoir has most probably already been done. It was sad how beholden he seemed to feel. Joey let him wash some pots and clean up the dining room but, clearly, the man felt a strong need to pay his way. No, he didn't tell me his story; he told it to Joey, but I was making sandwiches within earshot.

        Well… lunch has been served—again. Again it was a blessing to serve.

JUNE 6—CHALLENGES

         Joey was about half finished opening 24 standard-size cans of green beans when I got to the kitchen this morning. He was using the #@$%ing electric can opener. "This is my chance to whip that sucker," I thought.

        "Joey, can I try it?"

        The opener churned futilely at the top of the can. Joey was patient. Finally I asked for another demonstration, and he walked me through it again. After several tries, I got the #@$% thing to open a can.

         Joey was so excited. "That one was just as brilliant as ever. I wish I could mount that!"

         Yes, I could almost imagine a bean-can trophy. But I never want to earn another!

         This was a very busy day! There were the usual sack lunches to make—today we needed 26 of those to add to the stash in the refrigerator. Later Joey asked me to make 16 pbj lunches for our street folks (32 sandwiches).

         I cut up two large honey dew melons for a fruit salad. The apricots came in pop-top cans! Lucky for them...

         We made 38 grilled cheese sandwiches for the pre-release guys. After he'd amassed a bunch in a foil pan, Joey began to complain. "Miss Joy, these sandwiches look awful! I think I'll just give them some ham and let them make their own sandwiches."
         I stopped to check out the situation. Those heavily buttered, grilled cheeses were a bit flat... but they looked sinfully delicious. "Joey, these are wonderful! They will eat them; they will." And they did. His cream of tomato soup was also well received.

         For dinner tonight, he's having the green beans, baked ham, and potato salad. The afternoon Sunday lady came in just as I was leaving—and she finished sacking up those pbjs. What a relief.

         School is still in progress. This coming Wednesday, Joey will be tested more in-depth. "They told me to be there at 9:30, and I will be there! I never thought I'd get another chance to get my GED, but now I am."

         All I did was give him a phone number. Joey is doing this all by himself, and I am so proud of him. Before I left, I asked him to write something for me—he has a magic way with words. He seemed excited about the idea; I look forward to his offering.

         Elizabeth went to work at the kitchen last Monday (Memorial Day). She loves it as much as I do. Joey had said on Sunday that he didn't have help for Monday, so she went. She came home after lunch was served, but went back to help with dinner. Today she asked me to find out if Joey can use her on Saturdays (her day off from real work). As it happens, he really needs somebody on Saturday.

         Oh... Mr. Picky came frowning to the lunch counter today—glaring at the tomato soup and grilled cheese. I gave him the big-eye and said, "It's got no onion and no celery." The sheepish look he returned was priceless. He took the food.

         We had a child at lunch today—a little boy about 7. Of course he couldn't decide what he wanted, so I gave him some of everything he thought he might want. I think he's living at the shelter with his grandmother.

         Next Sunday Joey says he's going to give me a tour of the place, so I can better understand it. He says it's a lot bigger than it looks from the outside. The pre-release men stay downstairs; pre-release woman upstairs... and something about across the hall, down the hall... anyway, the shelter folks are in there also, and families stay in what they call "family rooms." I'm anxious to learn more.

         Slick came smiling to the lunch counter. "You've let your hair grow out, I see," I said to his bald pate.

         "Yeah," he drawled, "it needs shavin'."

         All the faces are becoming familiar, but I'd love to see them go—if it meant they were flying solo.