SLINGING HASH

      Met yet another gate keeper this morning. Wendy still works there, but has taken a couple of Sundays off. Today's young woman has worked there a long time and is obviously comfortable behind that desk. I enjoyed meeting her. While she visited in the kitchen, I learned a lot about back-row and front-row Baptists. She seems well-versed on the subject and carries her share of humor.

       Joey had our eggs set out and two big pans of corned beef hash heating in the oven. When the hash was dry enough, I made little nests in it with the bottom of a catsup bottle and dropped an egg in each nest. Then the pans were returned to the oven—long enough for the eggs to be overcooked... but they were lovely to behold.

       We had a big pot of buttered spinach and a pan of canned fruit chunks. Altogether, that was lunch. The pre-release were about a dozen strong. They weren't very impressed with their gourmet lunch, taking one look and frowning. And you may remember the nasty fellow who once bellowed, "I don't eat ham and I don't eat white bread!" Remember? Joey had to make him a special sack lunch that day. Well, today, he took one look at the meat dish and announced that he didn't eat those foods!

       I could choose to let that get under my skin, but I don't. Joey told the fellow that "Miss Joy" could cook him an egg. So Miss Joy said to the man, "How do you want your egg? Over easy?"

       "No! I don't want nothin' raw!" he snapped.

       And no matter what I offered, he wasn't in the mood to be accepting. So I told him I was going to make him an omelet, and with his permission to add cheese, I went to the prep table.

       It took about 10 minutes, but, Honey, that was the prettiest omelet I've ever rustled up. It was so pretty that Joey wouldn't let me hand it to the man. He wanted to give it to him! The man refused to say thank you or to smile or show any emotion at all. He took his plate and sat down. I looked from time to time, to see how his meal was going, and when he finished he plainly told me, "That was good. Thank you!" And he smiled.

       Really, his behavior is so much like that of our 3-year-old homeless fellow. They both need cajoling; they're both unwieldy; and neither has had any good breaks lately.

       Memorable was a handsome homeless fellow whose smile lit up the room when he saw the hash. "I haven't had that in 18 months!" Later he agreed with me that, yes, the eggs were over baked, but he just didn't care. There wasn't a scrap left on his plate, and he wanted to tell me about the 12-inch cast-iron skillet he has. WHERE do you keep your cast-iron skillet while you live in a shelter? I so wanted to ask…

       My precious adolescents are gone. Their mother told Joey to thank me for the goodies I'd given the children. Neither Joey nor today's gate keeper has details of the family's moving out, but we hope they got an apartment where the kids can throw a ball and have a place to call home. I missed them awfully—and selfishly.

       Midway through the noon lunch, someone delivered a huge batch of kale to the kitchen. Joey came through the doors hugging those enormous greens like a bushel basket. Someone chided him. "Well," he shot back, "some people get roses; I get kale!" Later, he said, "Miss Joy, nobody is going to cook that kale; I'm taking it home! I love greens!"

       Phil was around. He was visiting with Joey in the dining room when I arrived, but made a hasty exit. Later, I saw him at lunch, and he ate well—no complaints.

       The four babies and their mother were there—no dad in sight—and you just hope with all your might that she's had her tubes tied, but you know she hasn't… You know what she said when I took little bowls of hash and spinach to their table? She said, "They don't like that." I asked her if they'd ever had that, and she said no. So I suggested they try it. I gave a bowl to each of the three boys. They pushed them back to me and asked for a toy. I said they could have a toy, after they ate their lunch—their one teaspoon of lunch. Later, those bowls were said to have been consumed (who knows?), and I made some turkey and cheese and milk for the kids. But really… "they don't like that?" I even TOLD her to not SAY that! …woman's got some basic stupid going on there!

       Next week, if Joey can get the supply house to send us a case of frozen pie shells, we're serving quiche! Quiche 'n sausage, quiche with ham and cheese, quiche with cheese 'n broccoli… You know, I can't remember when we last used that nasty deep fryer! Ain't it great?