Two bright pre-release
shouted, "Hey, Joy!" as I got out of my car. One teased me for being
bundled up against the cold in my scarf and gloves. Inside, Gatekeeper Curls and two more
pre-release said, "Hey, Joy!" If it weren't just the nature of this
particular group, I'd think something was afoot.
Doug had his dinner plans
underway. His lunch plans were standing in front of him, looking a lot like me.
Big Jack was right there, making sure his wishes were known—he wanted the soup.
Before you groan about that
soup recipe again, understand that today's soup was far more different than any yet. The mystery box had received donations
this week, but they weren't my favorite soup ingredients. I started with 3
single-serving, microwavable containers of soup (minestrone in one and some
vegetable/meat/rice mix in the others). Then I added several cans of plain
tomato sauce and one of stewed tomatoes. There was a can of peas, a can of
turnip greens, and one of carrots. The walk-in refrigerator coughed up some
diced onions, fresh celery and 5 potatoes. As the brew bubbled, I worried. I
added water several times, as it seemed "strong," just to look at.
Eventually Doug and I tasted it. He said it was "bitter," and I said
it was just "not good." I'd read where one should add butter if a
tomato sauce is bitter, so we put a large piece of butter in it. Then I added a
tablespoon of sugar. Then I crushed a dozen strips of lasagna in a plastic bag,
and added those (we've been out of macaroni for weeks). I hoped the pasta would
pull my soup together, but the next tasting found it too salty. Fifteen minutes
shy of serving time, and really desperate, I took two packages of Ramen noodle
soup mix out of the mystery box and added only the noodles. They soaked up the
extra salt just perfectly. Whew.
Big Jack was in and out, as
the soup prep went on, and I had told him in the beginning, "I cannot make
a silk purse from a sow's ear." He'd argued with me, and then he asked me if I'd had a good week. "Not so much," I answered. Just being honest.
As for the soup, in the end, the big guy gave it high marks and bellowed, "Told you you could
make a purse outta a pig's ear!" One fellow
made a special trip to the counter to say, "The soup was good, Miss Joy!" Several sent those
sentiments from their seats, and some had seconds. Again, we served chicken
salad and fruit on the side. There is now a running joke that it's "Miss
Joy's homemade chicken salad." The "use by" date on today's tub
was last Monday—I hope it doesn't ruin my reputation…
Several cans of sardines had been
donated, and I had brought one, so as previously planned, we made up one plate
with a can of sardines, crackers, soup and fruit. I hid a lovely new ball-point
pen under the sardine can. Doug and I watched the plate, as a young man took it
to his seat. We pretended to be busy, still watching, as he carefully picked up
a pack of crackers, then the sardine can. He found the pen! He thought some
poor soul had lost their pen on his
plate, and brought it to the counter. "Nope," Doug told him,
"that's the prize for taking the sardines!"
Shortly after that, I saw Doug
handing a can of sardines to another fellow, and even later, a few of us talked
about them, learning to eat them, and protein content. They're neat guys.
In about 2 weeks, we are
expecting a large group of new pre-release. I'd be nervous, but the guys we
have now will shape up anybody who needs it. Seems the prison system is trying
to get as many folks as possible placed in half-way houses before the holidays.
Maybe it's good for morale…
Curls… you gotta see this guy.
He came to the kitchen a few times and looked around. Eventually, he asked,
"Is there meat in this soup?"
"Yes, there is," I
said, "and you could use some
meat on your bones." Boy, is he a scrawny little guy—and the striped
socks, skin-tight clothes and other embellishments give me the feeling that
"the powers" will send this young man packing before too long. It
doesn't pay to take that job and be "different."
Eventually, he prepared something meatless in the microwave as Doug watched
with an eye roll that sent my laughter scurrying.
So last Wednesday was the day
that Boy #2 was to return from out of town. Many people were searching for the
gift that everyone knew had been left for him, and it finally turned up. The
child came to the kitchen to ask if his gift had been left for him. Doug said
the child's face went off the charts with delight when the gift was handed over.
He'd never seen so much joy on one little face in his life, and he wanted me to
know exactly how the face appeared. Don't you imagine that this child is not
accustomed to having wishes come true?
The homeless residents were in
good form today. The nerdy guy from last week is gone. The pregnant woman had
her baby and she and her girls are gone. Doug and I agree that it's a relief
and that watching horrible parenting is difficult.
Both boys were excited to get
today's goodies, and Boy #1 got some piano music and a very quick review of
last week's lesson. He did practice, and he couldn't wait to show me his
scale—c-d-e-f-g-a-b-c. C-b-a-g-f-e-d-c. I showed him how it works just the same
for his left hand, and suggested that he share his knowledge and music with Boy
#2 if he liked.
I have a friend who could
quite possibly donate a used, but not totally ruined, piano to the shelter. But
when I try to speak to anyone in charge (to get permission), they don't respond.
The closest I've come to a place where I could begin to ask for permission was with Crusty Old Gal gatekeeper who
was being extra crusty that day. "That piano is NOT to be played!"
She went on to explain that it wouldn't be so broken down if people hadn't
abused it. Then again, when I explained about the boy, she soften noticeably
and put my call through to someone higher up. Still no answer. Can opener/piano—I will win; they just need to suck that up.
My peeps were enjoying the
warm fall air under a brilliant blue sky when I left. Too soon, we'll all be
"bundled up against the cold."
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