Tomorrow's Halloween, you know. In keeping with the season, I wore a "cat ears" headband to the shelter today, and I provided Joey with a funny hat—we think it might be a frog… His costume got rave reviews.
As I came in from the car, a big jolly fellow near the door announced, "There's our lady who makes the wonderful soup!"
"We're not having soup today," were some of the first words out of Joey's mouth, followed by, "Miss Lillian made soup yesterday."
…so… hmm… is Lillian feeling the competition? Should I have worn some little cat claws to go with?
Joey was making chicken nuggets and home fries. Period. There was nothing in the cooler for salad, and there was NO fruit—anywhere. It's just wrong to serve up a plateful of deep-fried finger foods "period." So we stewed over it for quite a while, and Joey said I might find some leftover broccoli in the cooler. I didn't. I did find a huge box of enormous cabbages!
I brought out two heads and put them on the chopping block. With our largest chopping knife I hit the first head as solidly as I could, and to my surprise it just whacked apart! The whole thing was chopped and in an aluminum pan in less than a minute. Joey put a huge skillet on the stove, added a touch of oil, and fired it up. I dumped in the first of five rounds of chopped cabbage, and Joey sprinkled his favorite seasonings over it. As the batches were finished, we put them in a big serving pan. Each batch was its own creation (butter here, celery seeds there), and they blended together well. Within 20 minutes of finding the heads, they were ready to serve. Yes, we can make stone soup without "soup."
Our pre-release seemed extra upbeat, raucous laughter again punctuating their conversations. Reminds me of the time Joey thought the group was too somber, right before three of them got tossed out. Just after that, their cheer returned. So last week, Ali Baba left, and the people began to laugh again. Is there a pattern here, or is it just me?
Angry Child was away again. Joey says he thinks these excursions are helping the child a lot. I hope so. I made sure we got a jump on the kid's mom today, with her demands for certain pastries. She will hold up the line of hungry people, pointing to the pastry box (for sack lunches), and insisting that Joey keep digging until he finds her favorite. I mean, just whacko. So today, I asked Joey to get that woman's pastries out and set them aside, so there would be no waiting. When she came thru the line, I set the pastries in front of her. Mission accomplished. The other little boys were present today and eagerly took the yogurts, applesauces, bubble gum, and a sticker—even their older brother who usually foregoes the goodies was happy to have them.
A new fellow has joined our group. He's "old" (a term which becomes increasingly difficult to define), he has some teeth, and he's thin. But the most remarkable thing about him is his clothing—it's all white. It's very white. Joey reasoned that maybe the man is an angel, or soon to be an angel.
Mr. Huggy came for nuggets and the last bowl of cabbage—and a hug. I thought he'd never let me go. What is it with huggy people? Anyway, I mentioned that I'd like to see his office "upstairs" someday, and the rest of the facility for that matter. So he took me right then for the tour. That building is nothing like I've always imagined! And we were "upstairs," as there are only two floors—upstairs and downstairs. Who knew?
When I stepped out to go home, the big jolly fellow thanked me for the meal, adding, "That cabbage was really good!" Our angel was leaning against the spare tire on the back of my car, soaking up the sun. "I'm so sorry," I apologized, "but I have to take it now."
"I know," he said, "but this spot right here is so warm." There wasn't another car that was good for leaning on—all coupes. I hope he's still there next week; it's really sad to think of him "out there."
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
DOWN, BUT NOT OUT
The "cold" that kept me home last week is still dogging me, but it's a sinus infection, I'm on meds, and the doctor said it wouldn't hurt me to go in this morning, so I did. Missing a Sunday reinforced how much I love that kitchen and those people.
Joey was giving instructions to the cutest little girl, about 21, when I arrived. She's come in 3 days now, working off her community service. This child has already spent a year in prison and openly says "I never want to go back there!" Why she has already erred again (I don't know how) is a mystery. Her community service is in lieu of a week in jail. She's happy to work at the shelter. Still, I wonder how she's going to keep herself away from her troubles. I told her about Ali Baba and his 16 years. Her eyes grew wide.
Speaking of that, Ali Baba has been returned to prison… and a big ol' bonjour to him too. Raise your hand if you're surprised.
I told Joey I'd been in bed with my infirmity all week and that I would not be doing anything strenuous today—mostly just hanging around because I missed the place so much. "They missed you, Miss Joy," he said.
"Who missed me?"
"Them," he said, nodding toward the empty dining room. "They missed you. They don't care that much for me."
"Well, they surely prefer you over the other cook," I reminded him. He had to agree.
We served pizza and soup. Joey and his helper had made the soup from the mystery box. I added a few fresh potatoes, some peas, and a few cans of chicken. There wasn't much left when lunch was over.
Joey filled a large aluminum pan with peas for tonight's dinner. He put a half-pound chunk of butter on top, then sprinkled sugar over them. "Sugar???" I questioned.
"I'm killin' 'em," he grinned. "They'll die happy."
Lunch went over well, and a few people asked if they could have soup as well as the plate of leftovers they had chosen. Yes, they could. I handed several bowls over the counter while Little Missy watched with interest.
"Don't ever do this when Miss Lillian's here," I warned her.
"Oh!" she cried, "Now I know I'm never coming here unless Joey's here."
Apparently "the word" on Lillian gets around.
We had no children today. Angry Child is blissfully spending the day with friends or relatives. His mother was front and center with her special requests: she always asks for certain pastries (donated foods we use for the sack lunches). She eats those instead of the meals. Then she comes back for half-n-half and sugar for her coffee, as if we are waiting to serve her and she is our only concern. She reminded me that her child would be there for dinner tonight, and I told her I'd left his yogurt in the refrigerator.
The other little boys might have been at church, but I left their goodies in the fridge as well.
When the few women with extra requests finally settled down, some of the men in the dining room began a raucous round of laughter. "Hey!" I shouted, "Cheer down in there! You're bringing me down. I been sick!" (I missed them too.)
Mr. Huggy came around, just as I was running out of steam. He got soup and pizza and shot the breeze for a few minutes. Wanted to tell me about the boo-boo on his hand. He's a trouper.
Well... Ima go fall down now. It was worth the woozy feelings and wobbly legs—I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
ACHOOO!
I'm not there today. I'm here. Joey was sorry to hear I have a cold, told me to stay in bed, and said he would find a replacement or he'd just "pull somebody in!" As I write, the pre-release are finishing their lunch, and the residents are beginning to come in. I am there, but I am here. And somebody who surely can't cut full muster is in my stead. Joey mentioned how much the children would miss their treats… Me too.
Still, if you've come looking for news, I do have some. The 35th anniversary of the World Energy Engineering Congress was held this week in Chicago, and I got to go! This is where I meet the authors of the books I typeset. I am required to enjoy myself and occasionally run an errand for my immediate boss. Win-win.
This was my first time to see Chicago OR a Great Lake. Both are awesome, but the lake looks more like a slick ocean, and it's hard to comprehend its immenseness. Chicago, on the other hand, is breathtaking, but it isn't THAT awesome or original. God does the best work.
Oh! I had a full-body scan at the Chicago airport on my way home Thursday. Out of a long line of passengers, lots of men, and lots of younger people, they chose the one little old lady to scan. A tall, thin, also-senior, black gentleman opened the scanner door and nodded for me to go inside. It was a long process, I thought, but I put on my most patient face. Eventually, the man went to the other side of the box and smiled kindly, motioning me to come out. Truthfully, I think the whole event centered around the ACE-bandage thumb stabilizer I wear on my left hand—coulda been something sneaky in that bandage—you never know.
Well…I scarfed up a ton of free loot at the conference: toys, gadgets, flashlights, gizmos. Trick-or-treat has NOTHING on a good conference! So I was sated when my return flight had a 4-hour delay in Atlanta. Can you believe it? Delta sent me a questionnaire yesterday about my "flight delay." They did NOT offer to reimburse me for refreshments, but they did offer a box for suggestions, and I told them they need to LYSOL SPRAY those planes after deboarding and before boarding, PLUS, when the overhead compartments might fill up, they should "check" the baggage of folks who won't have another flight. I mean DUH to both items!
Still, if you've come looking for news, I do have some. The 35th anniversary of the World Energy Engineering Congress was held this week in Chicago, and I got to go! This is where I meet the authors of the books I typeset. I am required to enjoy myself and occasionally run an errand for my immediate boss. Win-win.
This was my first time to see Chicago OR a Great Lake. Both are awesome, but the lake looks more like a slick ocean, and it's hard to comprehend its immenseness. Chicago, on the other hand, is breathtaking, but it isn't THAT awesome or original. God does the best work.
Oh! I had a full-body scan at the Chicago airport on my way home Thursday. Out of a long line of passengers, lots of men, and lots of younger people, they chose the one little old lady to scan. A tall, thin, also-senior, black gentleman opened the scanner door and nodded for me to go inside. It was a long process, I thought, but I put on my most patient face. Eventually, the man went to the other side of the box and smiled kindly, motioning me to come out. Truthfully, I think the whole event centered around the ACE-bandage thumb stabilizer I wear on my left hand—coulda been something sneaky in that bandage—you never know.
Well…I scarfed up a ton of free loot at the conference: toys, gadgets, flashlights, gizmos. Trick-or-treat has NOTHING on a good conference! So I was sated when my return flight had a 4-hour delay in Atlanta. Can you believe it? Delta sent me a questionnaire yesterday about my "flight delay." They did NOT offer to reimburse me for refreshments, but they did offer a box for suggestions, and I told them they need to LYSOL SPRAY those planes after deboarding and before boarding, PLUS, when the overhead compartments might fill up, they should "check" the baggage of folks who won't have another flight. I mean DUH to both items!
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| Some of the books I've typeset. |
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| Notice the FIVE SAILS ship on the lake! |
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| This is Navy Pier, a mile-long pier that holds a conference center, many restaurants, an amusement park with huge carrousel, docks for tour boats, and much more. |
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| My boss, me, and an engineer buddy. |
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| The city at night, viewed from the dinner cruise boat. |
Sunday, October 9, 2011
ANOTHER DAY—ANOTHER 50¢
The gatekeeper said yesterday that we had SEVEN children at the shelter, so I went prepared with yogurts and applesauces today. Joey was mopping the dining room, and those of you who bet we'd be having baked potatoes and chef's salad lost. He had fried chicken patties on buns and a pan of leftover mac 'n cheese.
I set about making the surprise soup again (and it was delicious again). I was in the middle of adding a little of this and a bit of that when a young man walked in and stopped at the hand-washing sink. "I'm Andy," he said, as if he belonged there and knew what he was doing. He did. He's working off his community-service hours and put in a number of them with Miss Lillian this week. So I told Andy I was really glad to meet him, and that I had some sack lunches he could make!
Sadly, before I turned around, Joey had assigned the mopping to Andy, then some heavy lifting in the back room, the trash detail, filling the drink bin and the ice bucket, and hosing off the back porch. Andy didn't put on a pair of food-prep gloves until I was leaving! So the sack lunches all fell to me. Too, Joey wanted to make two dozen sandwiches to go with the soup, and after all was said and done, most of those remained…
Anyway, Ali Baba has shaved his beard so short that he actually looks nice, and I told him so. He said he was looking for a job, so he shaved it. He practiced a few more French words on me. I'm uneasy about that young man, and I asked Joey, "What do think of him?"
Joey thinks Ali is kind, intelligent, and a lot of fun. He sees him succeeding. But it's the little things that niggle at me, like the way Ali triumphantly slams his left fist into the palm of his right hand—like there's a violence in him that won't be quieted, so he's found a "fun" way to express it. I dunno. Maybe I'm imagining things.
We did not have seven children! Angry Child was the only muffin at lunch, and he was in good spirits. His mother is just the craziest person I think I've ever encountered on this side of a padded wall; it's hard giving her eye contact. Why is that?
The pre-release crowd numbered about 10—strong upward bound people with a sense of self-worth and good humor. The homeless numbered about 40. When I look in their eyes I don't see hope. I see embarrassment, shame, fear, resignation, frustration, and a loss of bearings. Some of them are fidgety, others almost cowering. Occasionally, a bright face will pop up so cheerfully that I wonder if they've got the wrong kitchen. Well… it is what it is.
The cute gal who was working off her community-service hours last month has not been back lately. Joey says she'll go to jail if she doesn't complete them, so he's certain she'll be back. Don't they have a timeframe for completing those? And interestingly, the last three young men who've come to "serve" have been from affluent families who "gave them everything." I gave Andy instructions on the new can opener! I don't think he even knew it was there—and why would he when he's been working with Miss Lillian? He liked it!
As I was finishing up, Mr. Huggy just appeared across the prep table from me. Scared the dip out of me! I do not remember the last time I was startled enough to cry out. I warned him that I could have a heart attack or a stroke or break a hip! He gave me his last two hugs and smiles before packing himself some sandwiches and heading home. He was tired. Someday, I'd like to see the third floor and observe the duties of those who monitor it.
And that's the way it is.
I set about making the surprise soup again (and it was delicious again). I was in the middle of adding a little of this and a bit of that when a young man walked in and stopped at the hand-washing sink. "I'm Andy," he said, as if he belonged there and knew what he was doing. He did. He's working off his community-service hours and put in a number of them with Miss Lillian this week. So I told Andy I was really glad to meet him, and that I had some sack lunches he could make!
Sadly, before I turned around, Joey had assigned the mopping to Andy, then some heavy lifting in the back room, the trash detail, filling the drink bin and the ice bucket, and hosing off the back porch. Andy didn't put on a pair of food-prep gloves until I was leaving! So the sack lunches all fell to me. Too, Joey wanted to make two dozen sandwiches to go with the soup, and after all was said and done, most of those remained…
Anyway, Ali Baba has shaved his beard so short that he actually looks nice, and I told him so. He said he was looking for a job, so he shaved it. He practiced a few more French words on me. I'm uneasy about that young man, and I asked Joey, "What do think of him?"
Joey thinks Ali is kind, intelligent, and a lot of fun. He sees him succeeding. But it's the little things that niggle at me, like the way Ali triumphantly slams his left fist into the palm of his right hand—like there's a violence in him that won't be quieted, so he's found a "fun" way to express it. I dunno. Maybe I'm imagining things.
We did not have seven children! Angry Child was the only muffin at lunch, and he was in good spirits. His mother is just the craziest person I think I've ever encountered on this side of a padded wall; it's hard giving her eye contact. Why is that?
The pre-release crowd numbered about 10—strong upward bound people with a sense of self-worth and good humor. The homeless numbered about 40. When I look in their eyes I don't see hope. I see embarrassment, shame, fear, resignation, frustration, and a loss of bearings. Some of them are fidgety, others almost cowering. Occasionally, a bright face will pop up so cheerfully that I wonder if they've got the wrong kitchen. Well… it is what it is.
The cute gal who was working off her community-service hours last month has not been back lately. Joey says she'll go to jail if she doesn't complete them, so he's certain she'll be back. Don't they have a timeframe for completing those? And interestingly, the last three young men who've come to "serve" have been from affluent families who "gave them everything." I gave Andy instructions on the new can opener! I don't think he even knew it was there—and why would he when he's been working with Miss Lillian? He liked it!
As I was finishing up, Mr. Huggy just appeared across the prep table from me. Scared the dip out of me! I do not remember the last time I was startled enough to cry out. I warned him that I could have a heart attack or a stroke or break a hip! He gave me his last two hugs and smiles before packing himself some sandwiches and heading home. He was tired. Someday, I'd like to see the third floor and observe the duties of those who monitor it.
And that's the way it is.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
ALI BABA SAYS BONJOUR
Expecting to pull off the Caesar salad we missed last Sunday, I schlepped three cans of olives and a bottle of salad dressing back to the kitchen today—along with an 8-pack of applesauce, 5 Trix yogurts, toddler meat sticks, gummy bears, and my rolling pin and pastry cutter. I thought some biscuits might be nice.
The stove was covered with pans of pizza! "Oh, Miss Joy," the greeting came, "I thought we'd just have pizza today." And he had one other thing on his menu, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. It was a starch—maybe fries. I reminded Joey that "we" needed something besides starch.
"I'm going to make a pot of soup," I said, and I got nothing but enthusiasm from the lead cook. This soup would be one of our better pots because it was made spontaneously (chef's secret). Joey gave me a half-gallon can of tomatoes and zucchini (looked yucky but sounded wholesome), and if you want this recipe, I added to it the leftovers that Joey handed me from the cooler: corn, peas, tomato sauce, rice, cubed potatoes, and chopped celery. Two cans of refried beans and one can of tomato sauce from the mystery box finished off the brew.
Lots of neat stuff happens while I'm putting together the sack lunches (24 today). Today, a beautiful young man came to the dining room while Joey was mopping. "She speaks French," I heard him say of me. I was behind the scenes, a captive part of his audience, as he went on to tell Joey that Portuguese and French are very similar(?), and that his Taekwando expert friend went to Japan mistakenly thinking he wouldn't need to learn any Japanese. He, himself, is studying Arabic and Japanese, because he plans to go to Japan at his first opportunity.
I did find myself caught up in this conversation, and I learned that the young man has been in prison for SIXTEEN YEARS. Here, at our shelter is the first place he's been "free" in all that time. The federal system did move him to prisons in at least three states, but in 16 years he's not been "out." He wanted to know about my time in France—just hungry for the experience—anybody's. Going to Japan and studying foreign languages sounded fascinating; I couldn't wait to hear more about his travel plans. Waiting, however, is what he must do best—he's not allowed to leave the country for another 5 years.
Joey and I want to think this fellow is a really smart cookie. He certainly shows well, but when he adds that he's been Muslim for 10 years, and that the government had a hard time finding a flight for him to change prisons (during one of their population-balancing acts, two days after 9-11)... well... how smart is he? We do have a preponderance of folks in our pre-release group who won't eat pork. I could be wrong, but it looks like our prisons are turning out tons of Muslims, and while I have no problem with "race, religion, creed or color," I do wonder if that means anything.
The whole crowd seemed upbeat today—the fall air is slightly crisp, the sun is bright—it's a beautiful day, even if you must wait 5 years to travel…
We still have little boys from 7 up, and they still look forward to the yogurts. Angry Child was well enough behaved today, but Joey gave him heck about his please and thank-you manners. I'm the sucker grandma figure, so it's great that Joey steps up to do some parenting.
We had some fun in our homeless crowd today! I was singing Janice Joplin's "Oh, Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz," and Joey thought I'd made it up—never heard of Janice or the song. So I thought surely he'd heard of "Me and Bobby McGee," but my old-fart brain couldn't remember the name of the song! So I took it to the people: "Hey, y'all, what's that song by Janice Joplin where she talks about a bandana and a harmonica…" silence… "and ridin' with a trucker and the windshield wipers slappin' time."
A nearly inaudible mumble came from the far end of the room, "Bobby McGee."
"Oh!" I said. "We have a winner from our audience! Next week's question is gonna be harder, so y'all study up!" Then another wave of diners came through, and I never did get to ask Joey if he'd heard of "Bobby McGee."
As I passed through the dining room on my way out, our pretty prisoner called to me, "Bonjour!"
And I smiled back, "Au revoir."
The stove was covered with pans of pizza! "Oh, Miss Joy," the greeting came, "I thought we'd just have pizza today." And he had one other thing on his menu, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. It was a starch—maybe fries. I reminded Joey that "we" needed something besides starch.
"I'm going to make a pot of soup," I said, and I got nothing but enthusiasm from the lead cook. This soup would be one of our better pots because it was made spontaneously (chef's secret). Joey gave me a half-gallon can of tomatoes and zucchini (looked yucky but sounded wholesome), and if you want this recipe, I added to it the leftovers that Joey handed me from the cooler: corn, peas, tomato sauce, rice, cubed potatoes, and chopped celery. Two cans of refried beans and one can of tomato sauce from the mystery box finished off the brew.
Lots of neat stuff happens while I'm putting together the sack lunches (24 today). Today, a beautiful young man came to the dining room while Joey was mopping. "She speaks French," I heard him say of me. I was behind the scenes, a captive part of his audience, as he went on to tell Joey that Portuguese and French are very similar(?), and that his Taekwando expert friend went to Japan mistakenly thinking he wouldn't need to learn any Japanese. He, himself, is studying Arabic and Japanese, because he plans to go to Japan at his first opportunity.
I did find myself caught up in this conversation, and I learned that the young man has been in prison for SIXTEEN YEARS. Here, at our shelter is the first place he's been "free" in all that time. The federal system did move him to prisons in at least three states, but in 16 years he's not been "out." He wanted to know about my time in France—just hungry for the experience—anybody's. Going to Japan and studying foreign languages sounded fascinating; I couldn't wait to hear more about his travel plans. Waiting, however, is what he must do best—he's not allowed to leave the country for another 5 years.
Joey and I want to think this fellow is a really smart cookie. He certainly shows well, but when he adds that he's been Muslim for 10 years, and that the government had a hard time finding a flight for him to change prisons (during one of their population-balancing acts, two days after 9-11)... well... how smart is he? We do have a preponderance of folks in our pre-release group who won't eat pork. I could be wrong, but it looks like our prisons are turning out tons of Muslims, and while I have no problem with "race, religion, creed or color," I do wonder if that means anything.
The whole crowd seemed upbeat today—the fall air is slightly crisp, the sun is bright—it's a beautiful day, even if you must wait 5 years to travel…
We still have little boys from 7 up, and they still look forward to the yogurts. Angry Child was well enough behaved today, but Joey gave him heck about his please and thank-you manners. I'm the sucker grandma figure, so it's great that Joey steps up to do some parenting.
We had some fun in our homeless crowd today! I was singing Janice Joplin's "Oh, Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz," and Joey thought I'd made it up—never heard of Janice or the song. So I thought surely he'd heard of "Me and Bobby McGee," but my old-fart brain couldn't remember the name of the song! So I took it to the people: "Hey, y'all, what's that song by Janice Joplin where she talks about a bandana and a harmonica…" silence… "and ridin' with a trucker and the windshield wipers slappin' time."
A nearly inaudible mumble came from the far end of the room, "Bobby McGee."
"Oh!" I said. "We have a winner from our audience! Next week's question is gonna be harder, so y'all study up!" Then another wave of diners came through, and I never did get to ask Joey if he'd heard of "Bobby McGee."
As I took off my apron and gathered my things, Mr. Huggy came in—all 6 feet 4 inches of him. The hug was inevitable. Again today, he was eager to tell me where he'd been for the past week, in service to those in need. That is one happy retired man.
Next week, Joey says we'll have baked potatoes and chef salad. If y'all lay odds on that—about half of you will win.As I passed through the dining room on my way out, our pretty prisoner called to me, "Bonjour!"
And I smiled back, "Au revoir."
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