"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.
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.
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