ENTITLEMENT AND INELIGIBILITY

       After nearly a week of having "the crud," I dragged myself to the shelter this morning, knowing I'd feel the same here or there. Doug opened the back door and groaned at me—he has a sore throat. He'd brought his Millennial to work with him, and they were both miserable, but only Doug's discomfort was visible—he's a man.

       He was working hard to get lunch and dinner preparations in the oven, whining and holding his throat, as if he weren't going to be able to carry on much longer.

       I found two throat lozenges in my purse and gave them to him. His daughter and I didn't hear another peep about his throat, and everyone had a great morning in the kitchen!

       There were many of us there: BOB came in early because his church didn't hold services today. Dean (remember Dean from "before Doug?") Dean was in and out, doing custodial duties. That little turf was quite crowded for the first hour, and then we seemed to find a rhythm. Daughter and I sacked some PBJs, Doug put frozen pizza in the ovens and dropped some fries into the deep fryer. I put a bowl of canned fruit on the serving counter, and I made coffee at least three times. Others made coffee that many times as well.

       It's a chilly, wet day, and added to that is the fact that ALL of our pre-release are housebound for 3 weeks. Somebody brought beer into the building last week, and nobody wanted to say who, so everybody is being punished. Their families can visit with them on Sunday afternoons, but they are otherwise housebound unless they are at a job.

       I didn't get the whole scoop on one of our pre-release, but Doug found time to point to her, make the "she's pregnant" gesture, sweeping one arm out beyond his belly, and mouthing, "she's going back to prison." I watched her later as she came for more coffee, and I wondered…

       The 50-pound potato sacks of bread were piled deep near the back door when I arrived. Doug said they'd been delivered yesterday. The Christians who bring the bread are two women and a man. One of the women is extra fluffy. According to Doug, the fluffy one saw BOB working in the kitchen and asked Doug if Bob were married. Doug tried to squirm around giving specifics, but once the lady discerned that BOB is single, she told Doug to be sure and let BOB know she's available.

       First, there's nothing so outlandish about that. It happens all the time. It doesn't happen all the time when there are innumerable cultural differences dividing the lookees. So, while it's great that the bread is coming to the shelter fresher, I'd surely love to be there the next time Fluffy takes a shine to BOB. Come to think about it, who is going to open the door now?

       Tall, dark and intimidating, it turns out, is two people. I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing it sooner. They are both tall, dark, handsome, and sporting long, long braids. I have only seconds to look into each pair of eyes as I meet their needs at the serving counter. Today, TDI seemed to change personalities with each appearance at the counter.  He'd be grumpy and sullen, then sweet and kind. I was frankly relieved to realize there were two of them—otherwise, we'd have been looking at multiple personalities sharing a body, and that's just scary.

       A new member of the pre-release is gay. Sadly, Doug tells me, he eats alone and is extremely shunned. I recall how the gay homeless fellow we had a few weeks ago was not shunned.

       My little girl and the baby were at lunch, and I enjoyed giving them their goodies. On top of that, I found dozens of lollipops and tiny packs of gum in the candy bin, so I put a treat on every diner's plate. We served more second helpings than on any other Sunday I've witnessed. It must be the weather—but the comfort foods didn't hurt either.

       So that's about it. The crud and I held up for only 2-1/2 hours. I left Doug with two Tylenol and a couple of decongestant tablets. I can't help him with the Millennial—got one of my own.