TATTOOS & TEETH

       I almost entitled this report "When Cook is Happy," because Doug was whistling his lips off all morning. I don't believe I've ever heard him whistle before.

       For my first hour there, I just listened, as Doug shared the week's events. Miss Lillian was at the top of the charts. The story goes that she hurt her back while shopping in a super store. Says she fell. Says she's suing. Doesn't matter; she'll not be taking one of his paid workdays any longer. Dean was appointed to fill in, and we know he's good at food prep. Sadly, he does not follow orders, so Doug's menu was partially ignored, and balanced meals were not served. Still meals were served, and Doug got some time off.

       Someone went to the food pantry and brought in a box of goodies last week, so everyone got gum on their plate. I was afraid we might never see goodies again. We had no small children, but when it comes to a pack of gum, everyone is a kid.

      The new director begins in a few days. Everyone's excited and wary, as there are the usual rumors that things will be shaken up. Personally, I don't see that happening. The place has hobbled along for so long, allowing the Bureau of Prisons (one person) to call the important shots… I just don't see why the new guy would mess with the status quo—especially since it might effect the shelter's income. Money is always the bottom line.

       For lunch, Doug was making cream of broccoli soup served with chicken salad and fruit. The chicken salad is always the same "death in a tub" utterly divine pre-made stuff, and Doug's soup is a masterpiece that he whips up in minutes. The recipe is this: steam the broccoli until it's almost mushy. Use milk and potato pearls (not flakes) for the base. When the mixture's consistency is a creamy soup, add some salt and pepper and serve with grated cheese on top. Then have another helping.

      Shortly before lunchtime, Doug and Gatekeeper had a discussion about a tiny fellow who was sitting out front under a tree. Some folks from a church had brought the man there and asked the shelter to give him a bed. (That's not how it works.) Gatekeeper explained to them that he couldn't simply give the man a bed and, furthermore, none was available. He said he could not let the man come in for a meal because the man had no shoes, but he did offer to give the man a sack lunch. The church folks chose to take the man to a fast-food place instead, but then returned him to the shelter. I've no idea what went down then.

       Of the pre-release only about five guys showed up. Most of them are on pass today because it's Fathers Day. We were lulled into thinking the remainder of the lunch crowd would be light… until we let the homeless in, and they put us in fast-forward.

       Near the end of that group's lunch period, the wee fellow in question came in and cautiously approached the counter. "I'm in bed 28," he said meekly. Doug peered around to see if he was wearing shoes, and he was. He's as pitiable a specimen of humanity as you'll ever see, but quite engaging, and smiling his way through. In his arms were clutched a few necessities: a toothbrush and some other toiletries that he'd been given. He juggled his things and his lunch, making several trips to the counter. I found him a plastic bag for his things, and his face lit up with delight! A plastic bag…

       The man engaged Doug in some conversation about his feet (demonstrating injuries) and his hand (awfully red and swollen). Doug gave him appropriate sympathy. Later, Doug and I mused about the fellow's condition which gives the appearance of being high, but the more closely I studied him, the more I was thinking perhaps some brain damage is involved. He's covered in tattoos (the "prisoner earmark" teardrop in the corner of one eye), and as toothless as he can be.

       "Why would a person not get a set of dentures in lieu of all those tattoos," I asked Doug. Quite simply, he explained, because in prison tats are free.