JUST ANOTHER DAY

       Gate Keeper was unusually chipper when he let me in today. His first remarks were, "Joey just got here," and "What's for lunch?"
       In my own stupid daze, I had zipped off to my Sunday pleasures without my cell phone or my knives. I was fully steeped in the notion that Joey and I had planned this simple meal way last week, and nothing could go wrong. Why do I do that?
       Joey forgot to order celery and dill pickles for our tuna salad, and he forgot to order the pinto beans. He called his sister to go to a store and get some celery and dill pickles for us. Then he put eggs on to boil.  Eventually, I had opened about 2 dozen cans of tuna and mixed it with a half dozen boiled eggs, chopped celery, onion, macaroni, and dill pickles. We had a huge pan of tuna salad. 
       We found two large cans of black-eyed peas, and put those on to heat. And Joey opened two huge cans of fruit cocktail. We'd serve crackers, and the cream-cheese-filled celery sticks I had taken. There was even enough time to put together a dozen sack lunches.
       You know, people either love cream-cheese-filled celery sticks, or they don't. We had a very few who wanted to make a taste test, but none of them was completely won over. Those who knew they liked it didn't hesitate to have some.
       I don't think any of our offerings made a huge hit today, and the crowd was unusually small. Many of the pre-release were having a weekend with their families, and I don't know where all the homeless were. The kids and their mom are still there. The kids have opened up to me—I get real smiles and even bits of conversation. 
       Teacher's Pet has graduated. He told Joey to tell me "bye." I miss Angel. McCaulay is still there, and he's looking ever so much healthier, but I gotta tell you, that tall, handsome lad is a strange one. If he hadn't once asked me for something sweet, I'd think he was mute.
       Joey took my picture today. There's a luncheon coming up to honor the volunteers. I'm not going, but I hope they have a good time. It would feel mighty odd to be "honored" for enjoying myself on Sunday mornings.
       As I left, I stopped to speak to the kids and their mom. I had seen the boy with a football a few weeks back, but not since, so I asked him, "where's your football?" And he said he had given it to another boy. I was shocked! "WHY?"
       Because the other boy had nothing, and besides, there really was no place to throw a football at the shelter. I was not to worry, his mom assured me; her son would soon have another (very nice) football. In the meantime, we are compelled to admire two kids who need room to play, trees to climb, and grass to roll in, but content themselves with sitting next to a parking lot, reading a book.