SO LONG

Thanks to all who've been reading. I've not recovered from the events of last Sunday, so I'll be taking a long break. To sacrifice my health would be wrong.

In an effort to lift the shelter kitchen out of its present mire,  I've alerted the powers to some of my concerns. Perhaps change will creep into the picture eventually.

Do feel free to take up the mantle where I left off. The homeless will always need smiling faces, and I'm sure yours would be welcome.

VALENTINE'S DAY IS ABOUT LOVE?

       Doug's parking space was empty this morning. I parked beside it and stepped into the bitter cold only to be blasted by the loud speaker, "The dining room is closed this morning. No one will be allowed in there until lunch time."

       Heck, I didn't know the loudspeaker reached the back parking lot!

       Mr. A and Crazy were puttering in the kitchen, and I was soon packing sack lunches with Crazy. We made about 35 of those. Mr. A had concocted a huge pot of chicken/rice soup and was making grilled-cheese sandwiches. Crazy tossed a bag of mini-Snickers bars at me and told me to put two on each pre-release plate. None for the residents, he ordered. However, I had taken a bag of Valentine candies—those wee hearts with words on them, so everyone was covered; and besides, I'll give them Snickers if I want to!

       Crazy was also quite nasty about refusing more coffee to a resident. "We ain't makin' no more coffee today!" It's hostile, it's mean, CRAZY IS A VOLUNTEER, and I get so confused with these behaviors.

       Too, I don't like Mr. A's attitude toward our people. He's nice enough to the pre-release, but when the residents come in, they need to become invisible or expect to be loudly singled out. A nice young man was sitting on the piano bench, pecking a note or two when Mr. A shouted at him, "Don't sit there! Everybody will think that's a place to sit!"

       The boy was confused. He said, "I feel like you're mad at me." I told Mr. A to knock it off, and assured the young man that he was not in trouble and there was no harm in sitting on the bench. But Mr. A had to have the last word, pushing his directives on the fellow in spite of my intervention. There's no excuse for badgering people!

       Earlier, Mr. A caused a very loud noise in the kitchen, nearly taking the life out of me. I turned around to see him and Gatekeeper laughing hysterically, but this old lady was not happy! I complained about my head, my shoulders, arms, chest, heart… I didn't feel well after that!

       Inquiring about the loud bang later, I learned that Mr. A and Gatekeeper were haggling over a candy bar, and in fun Mr. A had declared that "nobody would want it," right before slamming in onto the metal work table. He, too, was surprised at the explosive sound. Sadly, the whole incident just reminds me that maybe I'm not as young as I used to be. Stroke is a word that no longer goes only with pen, breast, luck, or golf.

       The pre-release were again jollier than usual. As I handed one man his plate, welcomed him to lunch, and wished him a happy Valentine's Day, he looked down at the candy hearts and said, "You're thinking about us all week, aren't you?"

       NO ONE could have better said thank you.

       We have a new "Indian," and I suppose he might be the "scary" guy I was warned about last week. Mr. A is quite fond of the fellow, and I found myself taken with his charm. His facial features are exaggerated to the point of homeliness, his head scarf covers most of his pate, his waist-length ponytail is tied off every few inches, the sides of his head are shaved, and his body is covered in tats. But in seconds, those things recede to the background as his smile and warmth unfold.

       Others presented themselves in like manner today. I don't understand why these things occur seemingly in clusters, but I'll never complain.

       We have two new children, but only their mother was at lunch. The boys are 5 and 8, and the younger one is affected by a behavioral disorder. I didn't get a chance to give them toys, but I know their mom needed the break!

       Toward the end of lunch, Mr. A began guarding the remaining sandwiches for folks who'd gone to church, though a number of tall, hungry fellows were asking kindly for another sandwich. (Yes, I slipped a few across the counter, but not without fear.) It never seemed to occur to Mr. A to simply make another half dozen grilled cheeses. He appears to have completely forgotten that he, too, once lived at that shelter, and that he's not too far removed today in his public housing room. Perhaps he is punishing himself through the residents.

      Yes, today's shelter experience had some tough moments, but the difficulties I suffered at the hands of staff were made up for by the residents—as always.

STILL CRAZY

      …after all these years.

       Mr. A was coming out as I was going in. His eyes said it all, but he was kind enough to put some words to it, "I'm gone."

       Oh, dear.

       Crazy ignored me when I stepped into the kitchen with a strong "Good morning!" Doug was preoccupied at the stove and never turned around. I put on my apron and washed my hands. That was one cold kitchen—and only partly because the back door was left wide open.

       For about 10 minutes, I puttered around breaking up chocolate bars and putting candies in a bowl. Crazy yelled, "Miss Joy! Don't nobody want them chocolates!" I ignored him. Finally, I asked Doug for an assignment. He said, "Give me 2 minutes, and I'll show you." Then he took 20 minutes. When he immerged from the cloud of hostility, he apologized, explaining that Mr. A had let him down awfully, having come to work impaired yesterday and having left the place in poor condition last night. He took 10 minutes to get it off his chest, then normalcy and laughter returned to the kitchen.

       Our usual gatekeeper is off today. In her stead was a jolly man about my age who knows me from my Saturday calls for head counts on the children. He was there last evening when I called and still today, having slept over, according to Doug. I've heard many times of gatekeepers sleeping over, I suppose because they have no replacements. Most surprising is how calm and upbeat they are.

       The pre-release were extra giddy today—I've no idea why. Doug says we're getting a new one next week who is known to be scary. It's been a long, long while since we had a scary one.

       The resident group was smaller than usual, and the year-old baby was the only child present. Because it's Football Sunday, a nearby establishment is giving away hotdogs, so a lot of our folks dined there, leaving us with a large amount of food for the "overflow," who will come in tonight when temperatures drop. They'll get leftover cardboard pizza, hot broccoli soup with cheese, and a cot in the hall.

       Doug and I packed 56 sack lunches and 12 breakfast sacks. Miss Lillian is well fixed for tomorrow. Oh, and there are three large boxes full of Hershey's candies (especially Christmas kisses). I don't have the strength to bring home a load to save for them, but I surely wanted to. When the candy well runs dry, it can be a long spell.

       Next week promises to be completely different; they don't come in any other fashion.