LOOKING HOMELESS

       Eight or ten folks were sitting in the foyer when I went in this morning. No gatekeeper in sight. We ALL wanted IN, and that's when I realized I'd left my phone in the car. So I fetched the phone and called in. "We need in," I said. In seconds a cute young man let us all in. I haven't had an opportunity to  introduce myself, but I've heard his voice on Saturday nights when I call to see how many children to prepare for. Pretty sure I like him.
       Joey was mopping and sweeping. He'd put a large sack of canned soups on the work table for me, and a bag of flour. He'd put two huge cans of fruit cocktail in the refrigerator.
       I selected from the cans he'd provided, then chose others from the mystery box until I thought the combination of flavors would make a decent soup… yes, soup… I don't want to hear about. Oh! And one man in the foyer said, "Last Sunday, all we had was leftovers!" I told him that was because I wasn't there.
       After the big pot of soup was put on to simmer, I started on the biscuits. Who knew? It takes 8 cups of flour, about 2 cups of milk, and a stick of margarine to make 50 biscuits. I took my own tools, and we had biscuits shaped like hearts, stars, moons, and little circles. One of our residents got a heart-shaped biscuit that was not smooth on top. I apologized that his heart was a bit crumpled looking, and he said that was okay—it would go well with his real one.
       Our pre-release numbered half a dozen. They were a lively group, and Joey spent a lot of time bantering with them. One fellow found a tiny piece of ham in the soup, and Joey was obliged to make him some fried fish… but the banter was long and of good nature. We've certainly seen the reverse of that!
       During that time, a man and a teenager came to offer the shelter an enormous trailer of potatoes! They'd given half the trailer's load to another kitchen nearby, but we could take only one box. You know how hard it is to get raw food peeled and cooked at our kitchen… But the man—he had on this t-shirt that said, "Don't GO to church! BE church." I loved it, and I told him so!
       Our homeless numbered about 30, and 6 or 8 or them didn't come in until the last minute. To my surprise, and not on gatekeeper's list when I called last night, we have a new 6-year-old girl and her mommy. I was not as prepared for her as I could have been, so when I gave the dolly I'd taken to the 2-year-old, the 6-year-old naturally wanted it! I gave her a very cuddly little bear, and told her that she had surprised me, but that I do have a dolly that I will bring to her next week. She seemed happy with that news and the crayons and gum I gave her. My 2-year-old did not smile, but she surely snatched up that baby doll and gave its curly, curly hair and its clothes a thorough going over. Ah, the magic of dolls.
       The lady with 4 boys didn't come to lunch today, but the family with the newborn and the 5-year-old boy did. He's such a polite, gentle child, and I love that his father is always holding the baby—the tiny baby who has not cried in my presence and who has grown considerably in the weeks he's been there. For him, I had a soft little giraffe with a rattle in it. For his brother I had a funny monkey, and he loved it.
       So the children were all pacified, and the two older ones were coloring together in the foyer when I left. But today was different. Today the homeless looked so homeless. They were cheerful and they enjoyed their meal, but something about them was "more" than usual. Generally, they seem "mostly okay," but not today. They are homeless. I need to stop wondering why the newborn's mother has never smiled, or why the 2-year-old's mother can be demanding and angry, or why a man might compare his heart to a hard, crumpled biscuit.

LIFE IS UNBELIEVABLY GOOD

       I called Joey on Saturday to talk about our Sunday lunch menu. He was thinking "soup," he said. I knew that.

       So I asked him what did he have in the pantry... in the big fridge... in the freezer... and he gave it a lot of thought. He wasn't AT the shelter at the time, but he was audibally walking through those places, while I held the phone to my ear.

       We concluded that having fish would be okay because it had been four days since that was last served, and Joey had cole slaw and mashed potatoes that were ready to serve. Another easy, easy menu!

       Then Joey told me that he had only ONE pre-release to come to lunch (on Saturday), and furthermore, there were only SIX in the whole shelter! If that weren't shocking enough, the "homeless residents" have dwindled to a paultry dozen or so for lunch! (Dinner has more takers, but lunch is where I go...)

       So I allowed as how my back could use a day of rest, and I could see no gain in spending 2 hours on my feet to feed a dozen folks, when Joey could do that with both hands tied behind his back. He agreed.

       I'll miss my people... but it's good to know that they have better places to be. That is SO good to know!

FOCUS CAN CHANGE...

       Today, I was focused on getting in and out of that kitchen by 12:15. I was meeting a friend for SHOPPING! Women need a little shopping sometimes, and working women are especially challenged to find the time. But my friend and I were determined.
       Joey and "Crusty Old Lady" were the first staff I saw at the shelter. Joey was yang-yanging to somebody about being stretched too thin this past week. Seems some group of 300 needed a cook and HE was volunteered (for pay, but still...). "Crusty" was just herself… crusty. I still like the old gal.
       Joey and I had planned a meal over the phone last night, and it came off like clockwork (nothing like a shopping plan to put perspective in a job). Joey deep fried chicken tenders and catfish (oh, but those were good! I made a huge pot of curly macaroni (added butter, mozzarella cheese, cheddar cheese, and chopped broccoli florets. Good stuff! Then I cut up some varied and colorful melons for a fruit serving.
       That was lunch… along with sandwich buns. I didn't hear ONE complaint! Even had time to put together 12 sack lunches. The C&W music was hopping. The kitchen was HOT (deep fryer).
       Nobody did anything "special" today except for the 2-year-old stone face. She had some sort of epiphany after I gave her a little bear. Something about the bear and the idea of feeding it catsup or throwing me a kiss tickled her funny bone. She smiled large and real. That split second was the high point of 2/1-2 hours in the kitchen. Worth every minute.
       None of the other kids came to lunch before I left at 12:15.
       So today was mostly for me. Even cooks need a little time off.

THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN…

       Last night was long. I had a nightmare around 3 a.m. when I got up to take ibuprofen for back pain. When I finally hauled my sorry self out of bed, it was after 9 a.m. and I was running late.
      Fall is here, the air is crisp, and many residents were sitting outside when I arrived at the shelter. It looked like we'd have a good group for lunch. "Crusty Old Gal" was keeping the gate and I put on my best smile for her, "What would you like for lunch?"
       I thought she'd suck up and say something nice. That is not her style. "Joey's making corned beef hash," she said vacantly.

       Because I had planned today's menu, her comment kinda put the fear of God in me… low expectations, high disappointments? Heck.

       When I entered the dining room, a man was eating at one of the tables. Joey was in the kitchen. I realize that sometimes people need to be fed "off schedule," so I didn't question the man's being there.

       Within minutes, a young woman came in the back door. Joey introduced her. Then he sent her to the dining room and provided her with a full meal. While she ate, he explained that she was his "only best friend" in the world. They grew up together. He wanted me to understand that she had a horrific childhood—brushing aside his own. This is the height of benevolence.

       Joey had already put two big aluminum pans of corned beef hash in the oven. He had some fruit cocktail in a pan, and more cans of fruit ready to add—peaches, pears… mystery-box goodies. When we talked about having a third item on the plates, we decided on biscuits. Joey put 3 dozen in the other oven. Lunch. How easy was that?

       Still, I had this feeling that my corned-beef-hash/poached egg recipe from last time needed some tweaking. So I took the hash out of the oven and put it in huge frying pans, until it had a bit of crisp here and there. Then I returned it to the aluminum pans, and used the catsup bottle to put hollows in the hash, dropping a raw egg into each hollow. Then I put the pans back in the oven… where I would watch those eggs carefully! No more rock-hard baked eggs for us!

       Crusty Lady "ordered" scrambled eggs to go with her hash, so she didn't get a baked egg… but after all was said and done, I think she might have regretted that. She did eat a hearty lunch and gave it high marks.

       Our pre-release group (as I predicted) was FIVE! A sixth fellow wandered in late, but my count was on-the-money for plates needed on the shelf at feeding time.

       There were no complaints. Our gluten-free gal is wonderfully gifted at turning up her nose (at the counter), but she most often changes her attitude after a meal. She can be helpful, cheerful, and thankful. On the whole, I like the girl a lot.

       Vegan heifer came in long enough to put the fear of God in Joey (he mentioned having to find food for her), but I never saw her. That doesn't mean she wasn't there.

       Our homeless residents numbered about 25. I know that only because I nervously count out the servings when I am putting their plates together. The fear of not having enough is always with me.

       Lady with four boys was there with ALL of her boys—the high-chair baby with a very snotty nose, and the 2-year-old announcing his arrival crying loudly. I put tradition aside and took him a Beanie Baby beaver right away. His mother didn't say anything, but I distinctly felt that she thought he should "straighten up!" without the comfort of a toy.

       You know, I'm still getting over a cold, and if that woman's baby has passed his cold to the 2-year-old, that little fellow has a sore throat today! God forbid, we should give our babies credit for their pain…

       Anyway, the poached-eggs/hash dish was a big hit. I saw empty plates going into the trash can. That's always a good sign.

       Today, I was ready for the smileless 2-year-old. I had two Beanie bunnies with floppy ears—a mommy-size one and an identical baby-size one. I pulled up a chair beside the princess. "I'm ready for you today, Girl Friend," I said, putting the mommy bunny on the table. "Mommy," I announced. She reached for it. I pulled it back. "Wait," I said.

       The child actually withdrew. Sometimes my brain films things, and I painfully watched in slow-mo as she withdrew. Then I put the bigger buggy on the table again, "Mommy."

       Before the child could respond, I put the little one in the arms of the bigger one, "Baby."

      I got a smile. It wouldn't make the Guinness book, but, Honey, it was a real smile.

       Mr. Huggy took a plate home (he's looking well).

       I hear that Brenda is doing well with the night shift.

       The little boy who was new last week is still there. Again, he caught me giving out goodies before I saw him, but thankfully I was just culling out the crier at the time. Besides, this "Very Polite Child" was late coming to lunch! He had on a pink dress shirt (his Sunday clothes), and he's such a beautiful child—especially (as was mine) in pink.

       Well… nothing to complain about. Numerous folks thanked us for the good lunch. All was quiet when I left—full tummies—long naps. Even the baby had slumped over in his high hair… Why can't I have him just long enough to comfort his cold and rock him to sleep?

IT's a SOUP Kitchen…

       Please… no groaning about the menu. I'm sick today! I've had a cold since Wednesday, the sore throat is gone, but the hang-dog is hanging on. Still, I sucked it up and went in.
       Joey had self started—he didn't even have to mop the dining room! He had put on a pot of soup, and he was making about 50 sandwiches to broil—grilled ham 'n cheese & grilled turkey 'n cheese.
       I poked at the soup and allowed as how its tomato-ness was VERY strong. I asked him what had he put in it, and he said "Just some cans of stuff, like we always do." I wasn't buying it exactly like he was telling it. With his permission I added a can of refried beans and a bit of water, but after an hour, "tomato" still ruled the pot. So I got a little spoon and gave Joey a sample.
       "What do you think?"
       His lips puckered up, his eyebrows came down, and he said, "Oooh! That's too much tomato!"
       When I asked him, he admitted that he'd used some tomato paste…
       So I took about 3 quarts of the soup out of the pot and strained it under running water. After putting the vegetables back in the pot, I added water, a few cans of harmless vegetables, and a box of broth. THEN we had soup.
       Meanwhile, Joey's sandwiches finished in the oven, and I put together some fresh fruit. There was cut-up cantaloupe in the big fridge; there were fresh grapes; we had some strawberries, and a few bananas! On top of that, we had whipped topping! It was dated August of 2010, but it looked good and it smelled good, so we declared the date to be a typo.
       ONE is minding the door today. Brenda (remember Brenda?) is working the door full-time now on the night shift. That's why I haven't seen her. She's also still volunteering in the kitchen. Mr. Huggy is filling his Sunday duties with driving folks to church again, and he's looking well. I begged off on the hug because of my cold…
      The pre-release group was small, as usual. I recall a time when that group was large, but perhaps that was in winter…
       We had about 25 in our homeless group. My 6-year-old and her parents have gone to live in a home of their own! I missed her, but it was a good miss. The 2-year-old still has no smile, but she eats well, and she said thank-you, as instructed, when I gave her a pink bear, some crayons, and a pack of gummies. Then I crossed the room where our mother of 4 sat with only 2 of her boys. The infant was in his high chair. I gave the 3-year-old a gorilla, a box of crayons, and a pack of gummies. As I crossed back toward the kitchen, a little voice called out, "I'd like some goodies, too, please."
       I looked down to see this cherubic 4-year-old staring up at me, earnestly seeking to be a part of the goodies program… "Oh! I didn't see you! Of course you can have goodies!" He was pleased with a puppy, a pack of gum, and some crayons. Need more crayons.
       We served a lot of seconds and thirds (and fourths) today! It was good to see them eat. And they were happy. It's been a long time since I thought of the group as "happy." Also, Joey discovered a member of our homeless who loves the stage as much as he does and has taken classes. He sees her as the perfect opportunity to learn more about those things. Everybody's happy.
       GED school is still on Joey's plate, and he has no intention of quitting, though he sheepishly admitted recently that he had almost fallen by the wayside. His teacher—that angelic woman who has led Joey and 5 others through the maze of "Challenged GED School"—is moving away. We can only hope that her replacement is good enough to get Joey to the finish line.
       After 2-1/2 hours, I begged off and headed for the car. A man I'd seen at lunch was in the hall. "Thanks for lunch. It was good!" he said.
       Outside, a lone pre-release woman smoked a cigarette on a bench in the shade. "Thanks for making lunch, Sweetheart. It was good!"
       So you see… it's just soup… but it's magic soup. Want some?