BOO!

       It's Halloween, and the dining room got some fall-leaf decorations and bowls of candy corn today. Had Map and I not returned from the coast late yesterday, I might have had the foresight to buy a hat or a mask—I surely wished for one this morning.

       It's becoming too chilly to sit outside on the wall; there was but one man there when I drove in. After lunch, it was warmer but still the people were holed up inside.

       Approaching the refrigerator, I lay my hand on the door and sent up a prayer for sack lunches. There were 27! You do the math—I already had a turn.

       I didn't see Mr. Wilson today.

       There were two tiny toddlers. Joey had prepared bowls of big, spicy home fries for them. No, no, no. Digging through two boxes in the storage room, I found a little can of peaches, and some vegetable-beef soup. Minced slices of cheese and fork-mashed green beans finished off the baby plates. They ate too!

       Joey made deep-fried onion rings and corn dogs for lunch. He served slaw on the side. For dinner, he had chicken in the oven and green beans on the stove. It was make-do cooking at its best—certainly no stretching for nutrition.

       My fish-only fellow got fish. I gave him the big-eye as he was leaving. "I ain't doin' nothin'!" he said.

       "Yes, but I'm watching you," I reminded him. Something tells me he might be having a tough week—his usual dimpled grin was at half mast.

       The young pregnant woman came to volunteer, about mid-way through the serving. Her baby is due next week. When I left, she said "bye," and then she explained that she had finished serving her "time" and wouldn't be coming back except maybe to visit. And all along I was wondering why such a young woman with such loose ideas about survival would "volunteer" in a shelter kitchen. Now I know.

       Joey is finally reading a book I gave him months ago. I knew he'd love it, but even my reading to him the first page didn't entice him enough to put forth the effort. Today he said, "Miss Joy, I'm reading the book! One day I didn't have anything to do… [I knew he was waiting for a moment of desperation]… and I started reading it, and he's burned down the house! His little brother kept telling him no, but he did it anyway. He caught the curtains on fire and his grandma's sick and they found him by the chimney when the fire was out…" and on and on. Of course I've read the book, and I knew Joey would love it, but now Joey knows. Ain't it great?

IS IT SOUP YET?

       It is! It's soup!

       You know those 1-pound tubes of ground beef? Joey had one that was 4 pounds! He put a 4-gallon stock pot on the stove and I browned the meat. Joey has a nasty head cold, and anything I wanted to do was fine with him!

       I dug some onions out of a 100-pound sack in the walk-in fridge and an apronful of potatoes from another 100-pound sack. Joey found some pruny carrots and celery. I added two jars of spaghetti sauce, water, corn, macaroni, a gallon of green beans, a few peas and carrots from the cooler, and we called it soup! It was ONE HOUR from nothing to something. Oh! and I mixed up about a gallon of cornbread. Joey helped with the big pan. I thought it wasn't as good as it is from a cast-iron skillet, but people were eating it.

      My favorite fellow was there—he held the door as I came in, and said he was looking forward to having me cook up something good. It was just SAD to realize he doesn't eat beef. Little Moon Face had some of Aunt Mama's soup though. Wonder how it feels to get off the school bus from kindergarten and walk into the shelter?

       Mr. Wilson surely had the soup, but he fussed at me for not getting the cornbread out of the oven until he'd eaten his soup—we did have a bit of a time crunch. Besides whipping up all that food, I made 40 sandwiches for 20 sack lunches. There was no goofing off, though Joey and I fully enjoyed our jammin' country/western music.

       Late in the pre-release lunchtime, a surly man came to the counter and turned his nose up at the soup. "What kind is it?"

       Joey said, "Vegetable beef."

       The man wanted to know if he could have something else (we did have a large tuna/mac dish in the fridge), but Joey said, "No." The man left with nothing! I whispered to Joey about the tuna. Joey was quick to tell me he does not like that man, and he can't wait until the man leaves! I'm pretty sure Joey's world is often a scary place.

       Nobody came to the back door! The little man who'd been helping in the storage room has been denied that privilege. One has returned to his regular shift, and around 11:30 the young volunteer who's pregnant came in. She won't be pregnant much longer—Mr. Wilson was teasing her, and I'm telling you HE could be carrying triplets! Joey says his daughter brings him fried chicken and pizza.

       Mr. Wilson is a whole study in himself, with his devil-may-care attitude about his health. I imagine he thinks of his death as something that will just "take him" one day. I wonder if he understands that his diabetes and morbid obesity will chew him off, one leg at the time? I don't think he has entertained that version of the finale.

       Well… my feet and legs have entertained the finale of kitchen duty for today! Wonder what Map's making for dinner.

STILL OCTOBER

       Joey was especially excited to see me today. "Hey, Miss Joy! Boy, do I have a surprise for you, Ma'am!" And he swung wide the big refrigerator door to reveal forty-five sack lunches! Just made my day. Then he began making suggestions about how I might put together the dinner he was preparing… and cooking is way more fun than making sack lunches, so I was ready—even had two sharp knives with me.

       Joey had some pre-cooked, frozen roast beef for tonight's dinner. There were cold pieces of fat all over the meat, so we spent a long while picking it out and remarking about how it would set up housekeeping in a person's veins, cause a stroke, "and make you fat," Joey added. I wish you could have seen his face two hours later when I caught him preparing to pour bacon grease on the green beans. He just hadn't connected the two fats, but I think he's got it now.

       ONE was there today! I don't know how we deserved that blessing, but he brought another story: A man jumped up on a table in the dining room one day and began shouting, "God is coming back! Repent!"

       One asked the man why he was doing that, and the man said the voices in his head had told him to. One told the man that the voices didn't have permission to get up on the table and, furthermore, the shelter wasn't equipped to house them. So the man had to go.

       Early on today, Joey and I heard a rap-tapping at the back door. It was supposed to let us know, by its special rhythm, that it was friendly fire. We ignored it. About 10 minutes later, a familiar face came in thru the front to help out in the kitchen. I don't remember his name, but he's been there a couple of other times, and Joey puts him to work organizing the freezer and storage area. The interesting twist was that he asked Joey several times, "Didn't you hear me knocking? I knocked!"

        Joey lied—he so lied. "I never heard any knocking. I musta been running some machines or something." I wish I had thought to ask Joey if that fellow can read.

      For lunch, Joey had started a batch of macaroni and tuna salad, so he turned that over to me while he did the mopping. Our pre-release group was sparse today—only 6 or 7 folks. Mr. Wilson called me "Beautiful" and reminded me again that he's watching his health/diet/weight. I told him we want him to live a long, long time! And he said, "If I live much longer, it will surprise even me." It was just too true, and not a remark that could bear response. The other group was large, and I saw three people signing in the dining room! They aren't even "together." How did it happen that one hearing-impaired resident had two people to talk to? I wanted to talk to him…

       So Joey and I arranged those big pieces of pre-cooked roast beef in two enormous baking pans. We added potatoes, carrots, and celery. We had put some flour in the beef juice, hoping it would make gravy. After our lunch folks were served, Joey checked on the beef stew. No gravy, just lots of juice. Joey dipped out a pitcher of the juice, I browned some flour, and we made real gravy. Apparently, the residents don't have many opportunities to smell browning flour because I suffered several accusations of "burning down the kitchen."

       Next week Joey suggested we make a pot of soup. I'm all over that!

TEN-TEN-TEN

      Three hours and 15 minutes with a stove-up back. It's a problem that prevents bending over, so you really don't want to drop anything when you have a stove-up back. Everything else was working just fine! Joey was at the chicken sink, scraping skin off maybe 20 or 30 pounds of chicken; it takes hours to do that.
       There were 41 sack lunches to make—82 sandwiches sacked with condiments, a drink, chips, dessert & napkin. It was certainly time for that to be the case, as the previous weeks had been too easy. Kyle has completed his community service and no longer comes. It's a loss for us and for him. There surely is a lot of turnover at the shelter—whether prisoners, homeless, assignees, workers or volunteers.

     Joey had forgotten about the soup we planned last week, so the chicken was underway. However, there was a grocery-size paper bag full of donated apples—all sizes and kinds. I had taken a good knife with me so, after I got the 41 sack lunches in the fridge, I set about making applesauce with sugar, cinnamon and ground cloves. You know those enormous, deep POTS they use in commercial kitchens? We had one that was 2/3 full of applesauce by the time those things had cooked down. I have never!

       My favorite pre-release is still with us. I got a big hey with that adorable dimpled grin. He said, "I see you had to help Joey open my tuna can," as if he might be wanting to make fun of Joey… but poor Joey hasn't recovered emotionally from the big cut he got awhile back. Our $550 can opener is shot and only opens partway around the can. I took the scissors and snipped open the can. It wasn't rocket science, but Joey was rushing to serve our darling fish-only fellow.
        Mr. Wilson was there—looking larger than ever, bless his heart, and I met a new guy who helped Joey with the mopping. Later he brought me his insulin to put in the refrigerator. He's young and handsome and homeless and sick. Just breaks your heart.

       Little Moon Face and his daddy still live there. The young woman who's been coming in later than I told me that the child's mother abandoned them long ago. She helped me peel apples and told me many things. She's only 21, she volunteers, she has an infant and another well on the way, she lives with another girl who has an infant, she'd never done any serious apple peeling or cutting, and she was amazed at all the different tastes they had. When we finished, she went out for a smoke. Maybe I'm a little envious of her: she doesn't appear to have a care in the world—just as happy as a clam right where she is.

       That man who's been knocking on the back door did it again today, and Joey let him in—again! Then he tried to get Joey to give him some 6-packs of soft drinks. Joey said he could have ONE six-pack. The man said he had a friend outside waiting, and he needed to go now, and he wanted two. He was trying to intimidate Joey with that whole "hurry-up" thing, and if I weren't a lady I'd have gotten in his face. After he left, Joey and I made a little stink (again) about that back door!

       Two months ago I tried to get the "authorities" to put a peep hole in the back door. I offered to pay for the hole and its installation. They said no. They have cameras back there, they said. But a camera isn't going to stop Joey from opening the door when someone is knocking… So today we made a little headway. We got a NOTE put on the door: "No Entry. Go to the Front." We tried to make it simple for those who might be reading impaired.

       One (the fellow who's been sitting at the front, monitoring the locking and unlocking of the doors and watching the cameras) has gone back to his previous shift. I missed him!

       A social worker from another floor came for coffee this afternoon, and it was nice to meet a silver-haired gentleman to whom I could relate. I'm really sheltered back in that kitchen; the place is no doubt full of interesting people. He didn't stay long enough for introductions, but seeing him gave me another little peek into the workings of that machine.

       Joey got a 96 on his last vocabulary test! He's lost all count of how long he's been in school or how he came to be there. I find that fascinating! For him, school is now just a part of his life. It has no beginning and no end, and he seems to like it that way. What a wonderful attitude—he might as well be birthing a second baby, not married, and smoking! (It's twisted. If you don't get it, don't worry about it.)

       Our C&W station was HOT today. I'm gonna send them a big ole thank-you email!

       Joey says he might put "crock pot" on his Christmas list, if anybody out there wants to donate one. It'll need to be at least medium-sized because he often feeds his sister's kids. And he wants a cell phone. He talked to the Verizon people, but he can't pass the credit check, and the Wal-Mart phone costs too much. It told him about pre-paid phones. He was amazed. He doesn't have $20 for one right now, but he sees that as a possibility. Remind me to never again complain about the $300 my household spends each month for what we think of as basic communications!

       My final reality check for today's service hit me on leaving. I've had a vanity tag on my car for years—always a French word or two. This year I changed it to a University of North Carolina tag because it's Map's school and, and I love Map. So the tag came this week, and I put it on. I didn't give it much thought until I walked out to my car after working, and all those shelter folks were sitting around in the sunshine watching. Remind me to never again complain…

TWO MOONS

       Joey was so excited to see me this morning, like I'd been gone a long time and nobody had filled in. What a sweetheart.

       There was no cooking needed for lunch, but dinner preparations were underway—chicken, green beans and rice. Lunch was made up of plates left from previous meals and a huge pan of donated barbeque. Everyone who wanted extra could have it.

       It must be about time for my favorite pre-release fellow to get out. He's grown on me awfully. I tell him, "You be good, 'cause I'll be watching. You won't see me, but I'll be there…" Then he tells his friends. It's nice to feel like you can make a difference even if it's just for a few minutes. Two weeks back, I didn't get to spend time with him because he had to eat and go straight back to his room—he had not been good. Joey gets the funniest look on his face when he tells me one of the guys has misbehaved. He looks like a parent!

       We only needed 15 sack lunches today and no PBJs! I got to mix with my people to my heart's content. The little moon-face boy who once had dark circles under his eyes is still living there with his dad. They walk to church every Sunday, dressed alike. There was another moon face at lunch—a tiny girl maybe 20 months with busy blonde curls framing her wide cheeks and big eyes. I made a baby plate for her, cutting everything up for finger foods. She was excited to get her plate, not picky like other children I have seen.

       Joey's getting good grades at school. Honestly, I thought he'd have tired of school by now, but no. For next week, we talked about my making a huge pot of homemade soup. It's hard to plan big events like that, not knowing what will be in the larder from week to week. It's turning off colder now, and soup would hit the spot.

       Mr. Wilson wasn't there. You notice when 350 pounds goes missing. Still, there was an upbeat air about the place, and our music was appreciated by many.

       Heard a great story from the door-locker fellow. Joey and I call him "One": A resident missed dinner and came to the kitchen at 6 p.m. asking for a plate. "I'm dying!" she said. She was told that dinner was over and snacks would be served at 7. "But I'm dying!" she cried, and One put up his arms in a pleading gesture. "I'm dying!" the girl continued. Still she was denied. Then she asked, "What did they have for dinner?"

       "Fish," he answered.

       "Oh," said the girl. "Never mind."

      The young woman who filled in for me last week came again today, right in time to rescue my aching feet! Another satisfying 2-1/2 hours in bliss. Y'all come back now, you hear?