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 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."