PHOOEY

        Joey wasn't there today. The door unlocker was a total stranger, and Miss Lillian had a man to come in and mop. Then she had him doing other things—I did feel replaced.

       The last time I'd seen Lillian, she was packing for her nephew's wedding up north, so I asked her, "How was the wedding?"

       "It was wonderful," she said. "And my nephew was great!"

       "You wouldn't be just a little prejudiced, would you?" I grinned.

       "No! He married a white woman!"

       "No, no, Lillian—I mean prejudiced because he's your nephew—you looked so proud when you called his name."

       I was sunk by then. I'm guessing she wears that hat all the time.

       After I'd made the 42 sandwiches for the 21 sack lunches, and nine PBJ sacks, I served up a bunch of plates with "just a DAB of beans" trying to please Lillian's waste-notness. Lunch was mostly leftovers. For dinner, she's making mac 'n cheese, corn bread, and roast beef.

       My little favorite and I had a chat today. He's getting out in 30 days; he wants to "go home and get a job." I asked him what kind of job, and he said he'd do anything—didn't matter. I asked him what did he want to do, and that (32-yr-old) boy said, "Hmm, I never thought about what I want to do."

       Really. Never. It was all over his face. He looked up. He looked down. He thought and thought.

       "Thirty-two?" I repeated. "There's still time, but it's getting away from you."
       "I thought you were going to say how young that is…" and I could see it in his eyes that he's understanding how it might get away.

       So I mentioned an aptitude test, and he said he'd had one just recently in the drug rehab program. He said he scored high on organizational skills that might be used in running a business. He said he'd just love to run a business—just any business, "like a used car lot. I could do that. I know I could!"

       We talked about management positions in fast-food places; yes, he has his GED. I told him I'll be watching. I surely will miss that dimpled grin. Oh, and he said the potatoes last week were wonderful! How sweet is that?

       Asking after Mr. Wilson, I understand that he has "found a place of his own, and a job in a restaurant." Everyone wishes him well. He was not a pre-release, but a resident. Turns out he was just always so close to the dining room that I couldn't tell which group he was with!

       As is her custom, Lillian was listening to the local African American radio station's Sunday morning shout off. The music hits me as screaming without notes, and repetitively. At one point, I told Lillian, "I think that record's stuck!" Nope. Lillian assured me the soloist was just letting us know how she feels, God loves me! God loves me! God loves me! God loves me! God loves me! God lo…

       After an hour of vocal renditions accompanied by musical instruments, the preacher set to work. Today's sermon was about dogs—all the different kinds of dogs. If I could have heard it all, I probably would have enjoyed it. He ended with, "What kind of dog do you want to be?" I'll be honest. I've never given it any thought.

       My back gave out after the first group was fed. There was no more food to prepare, and I could say with certainty that I was no longer needed. My back concurred.