DÉJÀ VU

       The turkey is still strutting through the shelter kitchen. Today it was again used for a turkey-noodle soup (Doug said it tasted like egg-drop soup). On the side we served turkey salad (looks like chicken salad) and fruit cocktail. No one complained, though we did have a run on self-made PBJs.

       Tonight's plates are already made up, in lidded, take-out Styrofoam containers. Mr. A was dishing up the meals: a large spoonful of rice beside a huge heap of turkey chunks (all covered with gravy), a section filled with peas, one with sweet potato casserole, and all topped with a roll. It's healthy food, but I'm sick of looking at it and most thankful that I don't have to eat it. The folks depending on the shelter down the block from ours are said to be getting the dregs, compared to what we serve.

       Speaking of those other folks, I passed a dozen of them clustered on the sidewalk this morning. The weather has been spring-like for several days, but the street folks are carrying everything they own. One woman stopped to get a better grip on the armloads she was trying to keep with her. It's understandable that in winter one would keep one's goods in hand, but what do they do with those things in summer? Obviously, spring-like winter weather is inconvenient.

       I took 3 cans of sardines today. It's been a long time since I did that, and I was curious to see how they'd be received. The pre-release had no interest in them, but the resident homeless… they were interesting to watch. Those who wanted the sardines knew that this was a rare event, and they carefully, slowly, jumped on those plates, hoping  no one else would notice.

       If our deaf resident came to lunch, I missed him, as well as the blind boy and the kid with cerebral palsy, but taking their places was an older man with one good eye and a handsome young fellow who cheerfully said, "Oh! T-t-t-turkey, ag-g-gin!"

       Topping off the memorable folks was a young man who arrived just as the turkey salad ran out, so I offered to make him a turkey and cheese sandwich. He's very clean-cut and well spoken. He graciously accepted the sandwich. Then he asked about my hand: when does the bandage come off? Does it hurt? I was there 2 hours, and no one else asked about my hand, and yes, it hurts like crazy at times; I'll be bandaged in some fashion for weeks to come; and I'll have PT for months… but only he asked. So I said to Doug, "What a nice young man!" And Doug said, "Him? I hate that one! He's a snake!"

       Sadly, Doug is probably right; I'm only there on Sunday mornings; Doug gets them every day.

       Just one child came to lunch—and this week he finally brought me some drawings! He had drawn his pink PlayDoh, a stop light, himself, a tree surrounded by stars, a dinosaur, and a mystery creature. I gave him a pad of Crayola coloring paper and a Beanie leopard. His mom doesn't eat turkey (at all), so Mr. A grilled her some ham 'n cheese sandwiches. That would not happen at the other shelter…

       Late in the lunch period, Mr. Huggy strolled in and took a plate from the counter. He smiled weakly and nodded. He wasted no time eating his lunch, then disappeared. Doug says he's not allowed in the kitchen when residents are present (seeing as how he is now a resident—again). That worm just turns and turns.