WHERE DOES IT HURT?

     Cutie gatekeeper let me in with a big smile. He phoned the kitchen, so Joey would open the door there. I unloaded my bags, put on an apron, washed my hands and set to work. But first, I asked Joey to play a CD I'd brought. I have a new song—and we danced and sang until my feet gave out. Nothing like good music to start the day.
       Today I made quiche. It's been months, and maybe Miss Lillian has forgiven me… so I dared to try it again. This time I made only 7 (God forbid there should be one left over and she should have to "find a use for it"). Joey deep fried the most delicious bacon, and he pan fried several pounds of sausage. I got white and yellow grated cheeses from the fridge, and I had taken the pie shells and sour cream. Our work table isn't big enough for this effort, but I made do.
       Joey had a big can of green beans boiling, but it was not enough, so I added another. The canned fruit that he'd promised to order just didn't happen. He did have a large can of applesauce, and I found a tiny can of pineapple slices, and some cinnamon. When lunch was completely over, we had 4 or 5 plates left (which were probably eaten by late-comers), and there was not one green bean or one dab of applesauce left. It was a case of "perfect will just have to do." [Phil]
       The first batch of pies was ready right on time for the pre-release. There were only 5 or 6 of them and, predictably, they had minor complaints. One of the guys in particular made a point of telling me, kindly, that he's never liked eggs. I understand that. I told him that if he couldn't eat the quiche, I'd make him something else. Quite a few sentences passed between us, and after lunch he made a point of telling me that lunch was very good and he appreciated my making it. I cannot give him a love of eggs, but his love of human kindness surely bubbled to the surface.
       Our homeless, on the other hand, had no qualms about eating quiche. Their biggest challenge was choosing between cheese, sausage, bacon, and sausage/bacon. When I took the toys into the dining room for the children, a young woman looked up from her plate and asked softly, "Can we have more?"
       "Yes! But only when I'm here…" Five of them had an extra plate. And you know… there are no obese people in our group at present—just hungry people.
       We have a new mom with two boys (about 8 and 10), so it was nice to have kids old enough to use some of my art kits.
       When the first wave of diners had passed, a handsome young man came to the counter asking, "Quiche?"
       "Oui."
       "Quiche???"
       "Oui!"
       Then he got it. Big smile. Then he sidled closer, "How are you?" he asked.
       "I'm really tired; my back and legs hurt, but I'm here and I'm standing upright, so I've got nothing to complain about."
       "Me either," he said, "except I wish my mom wasn't so mad at me."
       I became a bartender in that moment, wiping the bar while he sipped his drink and poured out his troubles. Before I left, I took him aside, "I have a son. When a mother's child hurts, she can feel no greater pain. Your mother sees you hurting and she cannot fix it, so she's angry and feeling helpless about that."
       "Yes, but I just want her to speak nice to me," he whined. "I can't fix this. Only God can fix this, and only on His time."
       There was little else I could say—but I encouraged him to write to his mother with kind words, and let the other stuff go.
       The lady with 4 boys wasn't there today. I'll be honest, just seeing her spitting out all those babies (with another on the way) annoys me awfully, so I did not miss her. The 2-year-old girl and her mother are gone now. The child was smiling much more openly in the last few weeks. The couple with the newborn and 5-year-old remain. The infant is becoming chubby and smiling profusely. Everyone at the shelter is abuzz about how much the baby has smiled this week. The 5-year-old is absolutely my favorite (Joey's too)—and I had fun giving him a Beanie bat in honor of Halloween's approach. The 6-year-old girl (go ahead and shoot me, but this child IS "Honey Boo Boo"). She has no manners. She is overweight and rude. The upside is that she gives me an opportunity to practice being kind but firm.
       Mr. Huggy arrived at his usual time, and I had a plate for him. I was so ready to ward off a painful hug, but he just stood very close to me. Body language is universal, isn't it? But he's feeling less weak now and is taking the time to rest when his energy runs low. I gave him a very brief talk about "delegating."
       Joey and I have no plans for next week. He'd like for me to conjure up some, but I had to tell him, "If I asked for something, it wouldn't be here—you know it wouldn't." He agreed. So unless we plan a menu for which I personally shop, and one that uses staples always available at the shelter, planning can be fruitless—or just cinnamon-laced applesauce.
     
     

LOAVES, FISHES & FAREWELL

       The new gatekeeper has come to know me, and I him. He smiled endearingly when he let me in, and I noticed that he has my son's coloring. "Joey's not here yet—just gone missing," he said, but the kitchen was unlocked and I assured him I had come to a cold kitchen before.
       I still don't know how to turn on all the lights, but today I managed to find a couple. Checking the walk-in fridge, there was nothing that was obviously intended for lunch. So I attacked the mystery box and some shelves to find the makings for you-know-what. There was more than enough, and within about 20 minutes, I had a big pot on to simmer.
       Then I got a 5-pound sack of flour and began making biscuits. Today, I took cookie cutters to make duckies, hands, feet, moons and stars. Joey came in as I was mixing the first batch of dough. He'd overslept and missed his ride—and it's a 3-mile hike from his house. I don't envy the child. At first, I thought perhaps he was still hanging out with those bad influences from last week, but he assured me that that was over. Then he proudly informed me that he'd read a book! And he told me all about it! He said there was a quiz and he knew the answers, like "what a surprise!"
       Shortly before the pre-release were to come in, I asked Joey what could we serve "on the side." It seemed like soup and biscuits needed a side—especially fruit. There was no fruit. However, I found a small can of applesauce, a small can of pineapple slices, and 8 single-serving fruit cups (with sprinkle-on granola & cinnamon). I mixed all of those things in a big bowl and dished up a single spoonful on every other plate. We had some packages of yogurt-covered cherries for the odd plates. No one complained.
       Two of Joey's neighborhood pals dropped in at the back door (separate visits) and distracted him long enough to annoy me.
       I got the skinny on a number of our residents, and you won't like it, but this is the state of affairs in homeless care: The lady with four boys is pregnant, and the young, schizophrenic pregnant woman has five children who live with various relatives.
       Our family with the newborn and 5-year-old were at lunch. MOM was holding the baby today, and she looks so pretty! I told her, "You look the best I've ever seen you! You look rested, and happy; besides, you're just so pretty!" Her husband beamed.
       I made my way through the dining room, handing out Beanie toys, bubbles, gum and crayons.
       As the homeless finished their meals and I began to clean up, I noticed that we had a small bowlful of fruit left over. I still can't understand how so little went so far.
       Before I left, Mr. Huggy came in and gave me a large hug, causing my cell phone to pinch my boob… but of course, he didn't know I had my phone there. He took a bowl of soup and a plate of biscuits home with him. He says he's still feeling weak… and I wonder if he'll ever feel strong again.
       As I was leaving, the 5-year-old asked me, "Where are you going?" I told him I was going home, that my shift was over, and that I really, really wanted to sit down! But it was so nice that he cared. Two of the other little ones yelled extra thank-yous in chorus as I opened the door to leave, and in the parking lot a young woman shouted, "Bye!"
       Farewell… You might notice that "A Vent of My Own" no longer comments here. He was my biggest fan, a brilliant man, and a steady voice in the wilderness of life. He went home on October 4th. I miss him.

     

ABBA DA!

       There's a bitter cold wind today—dark skies—and misting rain. Those are key elements in predicting the flow of homeless into a shelter. In fact, one could report the weather by counting heads.
       A number of our pre-release were visiting family, so their group was small, but the homeless crowd …crowded in. The woman with 4 boys had 3 of them at lunch. Her high-chair baby is growing so fast. He's no longer sitting placidly as events pass him by. No. When I handed out Beanies, that baby reached out and spoke to me, "ah! ah!" He hugged his critter to his chest, then looked back at me, smiling, "abba da!" In fact, all of that woman's boys have high-level language skills. I hope life gives them lots of rewarding opportunities to use them.
       No little girls today, but I left the promised dolly with the 6-year-old's father. The couple with the newborn and 5-year-old were there, and as always I really enjoyed my minute visit with the child. The infant grows noticeably from week to week, and remains ever in his father's arms.
       On the whole, the group was fairly seedy looking, but they were upbeat. I don't think they knew how cold the wind would blow in the next 2 hours… And, oddly, no one complained about the food—which I, personally, thought was a complete flop!
       Joey said he had some breaded fish to deep fry, but it was salmon and it was fishy! The rolls he baked were bland and dry. The buttered spinach we heated was good, as were the cubed potatoes (heavily buttered, salted and with coarse pepper). A few lucky folks got deep-fried chicken patties. We had at least two who are allergic to fish. Then there were leftover plates with pizza and chili, and someone had donated a pile of enchiladas labeled "fish," "jerk," "buff" (buffalo), and "chic." A lot of brave people ate their fill at lunch today.
        I made a dozen lunch sacks, and I got to introduce myself to the young fellow who is our Sunday gatekeeper at the moment—just adorable. Mr. Huggy is around, as Joey mentioned things they've been cooking together, but I left too early to see him.
       Poor Joey… he confessed to having had one or two margaritas this week, and trying to balance their effects with energy drinks. "Sweetheart," I told him, "those things are called uppers and downers. You need to sleep it all off and not do those again." I mentioned flushing his system with lots of water, and choosing a banana before the bad stuff. It's not his usual behavior—far from it—but two old friends have come around lately, and it's their usual behavior. I'm glad he has the confidence to share all of that with me. He appears to listen when I talk.
       As for school, new classes have started, and Joey has a new teacher. He likes her, and she's teaching him how to match subjects with verbs.
       Here's hoping the FOOD will be better next week. I guess it's time to make quiche again.