Doug and Crazy were hot on the trail of lunch prep, dinner prep and sandwich making when I arrived at 10:00. Within 3 minutes, Hottie slid into the kitchen. Gosh, I hope my drooling hasn't given me away.
I settled in at the work table, made four dozen meat sandwiches, and sacked a dozen breakfast bags. Those things will put Doug's sandwich prep ahead by a day. He's coming down with stomach flu and won't be in tomorrow… bless his heart.
For lunch, a huge pot of potato soup was simmering, and the plan was to serve crackers and corndogs on the side. For dinner, there was a huge pot of green beans, two large pans of scalloped potatoes, four pans of meatloaf and 40 rolls. There was leftover potato soup as well. People from the street still come to the shelter on cold nights. They are given a meal and a place to sleep. Crazy says I would not believe how awful those halls smell in the mornings.
I had time to survey the guests today. The fancy lady, I see from her chart, has resided there for months. I do wonder what her plan is. The other striking solo lady (the one who talks via invisible Bluetooth) comes to the counter before lunch and just stands there, staring into the kitchen. We don't know why. Another lady came several times for ice. Crazy tells me a lot of the residents come often for ice because it helps them get through the days when they don't have drugs.
The little girl and her mother were not at lunch, but the teen boy and his mom were. The boy came for a second plate and said, "You're beautiful." Yes, I considered the source, but it was still nice to hear. His mom, I noticed, is in need of some dental care. She and Crazy were bantering when I heard her say, "Don't give me that thinin' thmile and tharcathtic look!" I hadda go write it down before it got away. How to thpell it wath an ithue.
Hottie wandered back in about midway thru my shift. He was wearing a striking pair of horn-rimmed glasses. I'd never seen him in glasses. He began to fix himself a bowl of soup, and I said, "Can I make you a plate?"
"Oh, no ma'am!" he answered.
Ouch.
After lunch, Crazy, Doug and I made up 40 dinner plates and put them in the warming oven. Hottie will serve them this evening. Seems like the gatekeepers never go home.
The guys were as chatty as ever, but lately I've spent more time with them, so I hear more. Word was—when I left there in 2016—I was afraid of Crazy and Mr. A (true), and I thought Doug was pilfering from the pantry (not true). Mr. A was spreading untruths, and it was HE who told ME (just this year when I saw him in a store) that I should not go back there because it was "very bad." In fact, they say he had left only about 2 weeks after I did! Of course, it was a while before Crazy got his act together, but heck, I could have gone back 2 years ago. I suppose there is a good underlying reason for those circumstances, but how I missed the place!
Doug's child got a little critter for Christmas. His account of the thing, its cage and behaviors was most amusing. It would appear that he enjoys it as much as the child does. His holiday report held no mention of sadness. Around 1:30, I took my pint of potato soup and signed out.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Sunday, December 23, 2018
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE NIGHT BEFORE
I've not felt much Christmas spirit this year. It's happened before, but when it did, I was keenly aware of missing something. This year, it's been missing, and I just haven't given it any thought other than, "I can work with this!"
I tell my younger friends, "Just wait 'til you're my age. You can forget shopping! You can let go of all the hype! You can even turn down requests to prepare meals. My guilt is gone!
The shelter, however, is celebrating Christmas, and that's a good thing. Doug and Crazy were running a dozen big hams through the slicer when I arrived at 10:00. Doug's arm was running out of steam, but there were several big aluminum pans yet to fill. There was nothing for me to do but wait until I was needed. So I went to the pantry to put on my apron and when I turned around, Doug was there saying, "Miss Joy, thank you for coming. Thank you for coming back!"
"Oh, Sweetie," I opened my arms and hugged him… "What's wrong?"
"I'm just missing my sister," he said.
She died—just this week. I didn't know. That's the second sister he's lost in the few years I've known him. These people are not old!
So Doug is very sad today, and he didn't hesitate to mention it from time to time. At some point, he and Crazy and I were talking about our own demises. Doug and I agree that we want no funeral, no box in the ground, no ashes sprinkled. "All I want," Doug said, "is that people will say I did something to make their lives better. That's all I want."
About an hour later, an older gentleman came knocking at the back door. I looked through the kitchen with my usual curiosity and watched as Doug dealt with the man. Soon, Doug was telling me, "You know that older man who came to the door? He used to live here. Now he lives out of town, and he's doing great! He just came here today to thank me for all I did for him when he was here and to tell me how much I meant to him. He hugged me three times! Can you believe that? All I wanted was to make a difference in somebody's life, and there he was!"
I know. Things happen like that. The best part is when we recognize them!
Tomorrow is the big feast day. Doug's expecting 26 volunteers! He's not looking forward to squeezing that many folks into the tiny kitchen, and he's just a little miffed that they don't find time to help out on "regular days." Ain't it the truth?
For today's lunch, we served deep-fried chicken nuggets and French fries. I sliced oranges to put on the side and added a candy to each plate. The group has changed little. There's a woman in a wheelchair now, and the two youngsters remain, as well as the fancy lady. Otherwise, those dear people blend together indistinguishably.
Yes, Hottie was often in the kitchen. I had ample opportunity to look my heart out. God, that mostly-blond ponytail is a thing of beauty… and his eyes… enough crinkles to tell me he's not a child; enough gray hairs to give him a touch of wisdom. Oh, sigh.
Three other young men came by: Two of them once lived there but now work at the hotel across the street. They come every Sunday for a lunch plate and to shoot the breeze with Doug. Today, one of them was saying, "I weigh 236 pounds, and I…"
That's when I interrupted their conversation. "You weigh 236 pounds? Trump says he weighs 236 pounds, but he's much taller than you, and he looks every bit as heavy. How is that?" We didn't fully understand how that is… but we all know a good laugh when we see one.
The third fellow is the security guard. I'd met him on my first day back, but I'd forgotten. Again, it was something so beautiful to behold that my eyes became dilated.
When all the people left, Crazy, Doug and I rearranged the dining room and cleaned all the tables for tomorrow's feast. I smell like bleach, and that's okay. Come Christmas day, the feasting will be finished and Doug will NOT have to work—the first Christmas he's spent with his family in 7 years.
Next week we can resume some normalcy. Hallelujah!
I tell my younger friends, "Just wait 'til you're my age. You can forget shopping! You can let go of all the hype! You can even turn down requests to prepare meals. My guilt is gone!
The shelter, however, is celebrating Christmas, and that's a good thing. Doug and Crazy were running a dozen big hams through the slicer when I arrived at 10:00. Doug's arm was running out of steam, but there were several big aluminum pans yet to fill. There was nothing for me to do but wait until I was needed. So I went to the pantry to put on my apron and when I turned around, Doug was there saying, "Miss Joy, thank you for coming. Thank you for coming back!"
"Oh, Sweetie," I opened my arms and hugged him… "What's wrong?"
"I'm just missing my sister," he said.
She died—just this week. I didn't know. That's the second sister he's lost in the few years I've known him. These people are not old!
So Doug is very sad today, and he didn't hesitate to mention it from time to time. At some point, he and Crazy and I were talking about our own demises. Doug and I agree that we want no funeral, no box in the ground, no ashes sprinkled. "All I want," Doug said, "is that people will say I did something to make their lives better. That's all I want."
About an hour later, an older gentleman came knocking at the back door. I looked through the kitchen with my usual curiosity and watched as Doug dealt with the man. Soon, Doug was telling me, "You know that older man who came to the door? He used to live here. Now he lives out of town, and he's doing great! He just came here today to thank me for all I did for him when he was here and to tell me how much I meant to him. He hugged me three times! Can you believe that? All I wanted was to make a difference in somebody's life, and there he was!"
I know. Things happen like that. The best part is when we recognize them!
Tomorrow is the big feast day. Doug's expecting 26 volunteers! He's not looking forward to squeezing that many folks into the tiny kitchen, and he's just a little miffed that they don't find time to help out on "regular days." Ain't it the truth?
For today's lunch, we served deep-fried chicken nuggets and French fries. I sliced oranges to put on the side and added a candy to each plate. The group has changed little. There's a woman in a wheelchair now, and the two youngsters remain, as well as the fancy lady. Otherwise, those dear people blend together indistinguishably.
Yes, Hottie was often in the kitchen. I had ample opportunity to look my heart out. God, that mostly-blond ponytail is a thing of beauty… and his eyes… enough crinkles to tell me he's not a child; enough gray hairs to give him a touch of wisdom. Oh, sigh.
Three other young men came by: Two of them once lived there but now work at the hotel across the street. They come every Sunday for a lunch plate and to shoot the breeze with Doug. Today, one of them was saying, "I weigh 236 pounds, and I…"
That's when I interrupted their conversation. "You weigh 236 pounds? Trump says he weighs 236 pounds, but he's much taller than you, and he looks every bit as heavy. How is that?" We didn't fully understand how that is… but we all know a good laugh when we see one.
The third fellow is the security guard. I'd met him on my first day back, but I'd forgotten. Again, it was something so beautiful to behold that my eyes became dilated.
When all the people left, Crazy, Doug and I rearranged the dining room and cleaned all the tables for tomorrow's feast. I smell like bleach, and that's okay. Come Christmas day, the feasting will be finished and Doug will NOT have to work—the first Christmas he's spent with his family in 7 years.
Next week we can resume some normalcy. Hallelujah!
Sunday, December 16, 2018
DEFINE YUMMY
The roads are clear, and the sun is out. It was exciting to be going back to the shelter, and I took the dozen eggs I'd boiled last weekend plus 4 heads of cabbage and a sack of carrots. Doug went to work immediately, chopping the cabbage and carrots and spreading the mix thickly in two aluminum baking pans. He sprinkled on a lot of seasoning and popped both pans into the steamer. That dish will be served for dinner tonight, along with roast beef, scalloped potatoes and rolls.
Crazy was there. He's still surprisingly jolly. And, BTW, his grandmother fried cabbage. It was said to be "the best." I'll bet she fried it in bacon grease…
For lunch, Doug had made a huge pot of his famous potato soup to serve with grated cheese and mini-corndogs. Because the pantry had some donated packages of expensive rice crackers, I took blueberry-laced goat cheese, mostly as an experiment. A few of our residents bravely tried it, but the rest withdrew from the word "goat." A class act can be a hard sell.
During the pre-lunch hour, the laughter in the kitchen was awesome. Doug, Crazy and I were rocking out with country-westerns. Doug likes to play "Who's singing that?" He knows all the artists, I know a few, and Crazy even less. While those events played out, I made 50 PBJs and sacked them with drinks. Then I helped Doug put 25 more in baggies for tomorrow. He was thrilled to see those sandwiches stack up and his afternoon chores diminish.
While we were singing, Crazy ate several bowls of Doug's potato soup. Then Doug began taste testing it. Then he brought me a spoonful. Soon, we'd all had at least one bowl of it—divinely creamy, thick, filled with diced spuds, peppered just right (I brought home two bowls).
Crazy filled bowls for the noon lunch group and put them at the serving counter, while Doug deep fried the corn dogs. Hottie strolled into the kitchen several times, perusing the lunch fare. Finally, he stepped very close to me and leaned in secretively, "If one of those bowls of soup disappeared, would you notice?"
It's so hard to think when little wafts of aftershave are curling around your nose. I wanted a fun comeback, but the teenager in me got tongue tied and was lucky to say, "Me? Um, I'm counting impaired."
The residents were quiet today. The fancy lady who acts like she works there was front and center wanting favors. She asked Crazy to fetch her gray sack from the refrigerator. Later, she returned it to him. The children have me a bit stymied. Our 9-year-old girl seems slow. There's no bright light in her eyes, though she did announce during lunch that her birthday is this week and she'll be 10. The "boy" is another story. I gave him a pencil eraser shaped like a little elephant. He happily accepted it, but his mother quickly took it saying, "Let me keep it for you." I have a feeling the boy is not sharp enough to deal with a pencil, much less an eraser. He is adept at coming to the counter for seconds and thirds. No problem.
I so miss those pre-release prisoners and the mix of homeless that included people with stories. This month's motley group is mostly women, mostly quiet, and looking mostly hopeless. I hope that's not their final grade.
Crazy was there. He's still surprisingly jolly. And, BTW, his grandmother fried cabbage. It was said to be "the best." I'll bet she fried it in bacon grease…
For lunch, Doug had made a huge pot of his famous potato soup to serve with grated cheese and mini-corndogs. Because the pantry had some donated packages of expensive rice crackers, I took blueberry-laced goat cheese, mostly as an experiment. A few of our residents bravely tried it, but the rest withdrew from the word "goat." A class act can be a hard sell.
During the pre-lunch hour, the laughter in the kitchen was awesome. Doug, Crazy and I were rocking out with country-westerns. Doug likes to play "Who's singing that?" He knows all the artists, I know a few, and Crazy even less. While those events played out, I made 50 PBJs and sacked them with drinks. Then I helped Doug put 25 more in baggies for tomorrow. He was thrilled to see those sandwiches stack up and his afternoon chores diminish.
While we were singing, Crazy ate several bowls of Doug's potato soup. Then Doug began taste testing it. Then he brought me a spoonful. Soon, we'd all had at least one bowl of it—divinely creamy, thick, filled with diced spuds, peppered just right (I brought home two bowls).
Crazy filled bowls for the noon lunch group and put them at the serving counter, while Doug deep fried the corn dogs. Hottie strolled into the kitchen several times, perusing the lunch fare. Finally, he stepped very close to me and leaned in secretively, "If one of those bowls of soup disappeared, would you notice?"
It's so hard to think when little wafts of aftershave are curling around your nose. I wanted a fun comeback, but the teenager in me got tongue tied and was lucky to say, "Me? Um, I'm counting impaired."
The residents were quiet today. The fancy lady who acts like she works there was front and center wanting favors. She asked Crazy to fetch her gray sack from the refrigerator. Later, she returned it to him. The children have me a bit stymied. Our 9-year-old girl seems slow. There's no bright light in her eyes, though she did announce during lunch that her birthday is this week and she'll be 10. The "boy" is another story. I gave him a pencil eraser shaped like a little elephant. He happily accepted it, but his mother quickly took it saying, "Let me keep it for you." I have a feeling the boy is not sharp enough to deal with a pencil, much less an eraser. He is adept at coming to the counter for seconds and thirds. No problem.
I so miss those pre-release prisoners and the mix of homeless that included people with stories. This month's motley group is mostly women, mostly quiet, and looking mostly hopeless. I hope that's not their final grade.
Sunday, December 9, 2018
SNOWED IN
Loaded with boiled eggs and candies, I donned the tall rubber boots, wrapped myself to a fare-thee-well and set off for the shelter at 9:30. This old lady is brave, but those mounds of icy frozen stuff are intimidating, and within less than half a mile, I turned around and eased home—uphill, uphill, uphill... until at last I was back in the garage. Lucky, lucky old lady!
So I called Doug, to see if he was at the shelter. No. He is stranded in 13" of snow at his home. This is one of those times when the gatekeepers must spend their nights at the shelter AND serve whatever meals they can muster.
We miss it :(
So I called Doug, to see if he was at the shelter. No. He is stranded in 13" of snow at his home. This is one of those times when the gatekeepers must spend their nights at the shelter AND serve whatever meals they can muster.
We miss it :(
 |
| Tracks go out, tracks come back in, tracks fill with snow and sleet. |
Sunday, December 2, 2018
LOTS OF HOT STUFF
The little nutritionist in my head is having to choose between acceptance and a stroke. I tell her "there are vegetables in the tomato sauce," but she continues to turn up her nose at the food.
Arriving at 10:00 this morning, I found Doug, Crazy, Hottie and Rick making a racket that would have shocked a 19th-century garden club high on rum cake. And they say women are the talkers. No.
On the stove was a large pot of homemade chili. Even Doug admitted it was too hot to eat, and he was surprised that many folks asked for seconds. I'm telling you, that stuff was a gastronomical disaster waiting to happen! In another pot were those little cobs of corn. The lunch menu was chili, crackers and chicken nuggets. For tonight's dinner, Doug is serving Italian meatball hoagies, the corn, and baked beans. Improvising the hoagies, we stuffed four meatballs into hot dog buns, drizzled spaghetti sauce over them, then sprinkled on grated mozzarella cheese. Those plates were filled, wrapped and stored in the food warmer.
Crazy is in fine form, and took it well when one of the others sniffed his cup (just checking). Rick has a cold and didn't wear gloves while plating the dinners. Doug is a very happy camper today—seems to be in his element. And Hottie—well, that child's front-desk responsibilities don't let him come to the kitchen nearly often enough! I never thought I'd see the day when a long blond ponytail (on a guy) would catch me drooling.
We served about 20 clients at lunch. The little girl got yet another color of Play-Doh, and the boy got a toy periscope. He's an interesting study, steadily happy, a bit hyper and owning a very short attention span. His mother returned to the counter for her usual "little bit more" whole plate of food.
The truly lovely young woman I mentioned last week was unchanged. Again she presented herself as a special guest, not a client. She ate alone in the back of the room. I asked Doug, "What's her story?" He says she thinks she works there, and truly she does have the air of such a person. It just ain't so. I'll keep digging.
Another attractive young woman came to lunch. She too ate alone. I was interested in the conversation she was having while she ate. I heard her ask, "Did you get the message I sent?" It SO appeared that she must be talking via Bluetooth on a cell phone. Problem was—she didn't have a phone.
I found some Christmas lollipops at the Dollar Tree this week, so everyone got one of those today. At Walmart I found affordable bags of wee Tootsie Rolls and a box of little candy canes. Those should last through Christmas. Crazy still tries to bully me about giving "those people" candy. He says they'll be bouncing off the walls all afternoon (not that he would be affected), but I'm not about to endorse his opinion. As a sober person, he apologizes for his bullying, and we can all live with that!
For next Sunday, Doug said he would steam some cabbage if I would bring four heads. I'll cut them up at home. There are more canned goods in the pantry now, and the apples are holding up. I took a dozen boiled eggs and put them in a bowl on the serving shelf. At the end of lunch, one lone egg caught the lovely lady's eye. She thanked me for bringing boiled eggs, picked it up and told me that she was just going to take it with her, for later.
I had to tell her that taking food from the dining room is verboten, but if she'd put her name on it, we'd keep it in the refrigerator for her. It was interesting how she knew exactly which drawer held a marker! "Those people" have way more access to forbidden areas than we like to think. See you next time!
Arriving at 10:00 this morning, I found Doug, Crazy, Hottie and Rick making a racket that would have shocked a 19th-century garden club high on rum cake. And they say women are the talkers. No.
On the stove was a large pot of homemade chili. Even Doug admitted it was too hot to eat, and he was surprised that many folks asked for seconds. I'm telling you, that stuff was a gastronomical disaster waiting to happen! In another pot were those little cobs of corn. The lunch menu was chili, crackers and chicken nuggets. For tonight's dinner, Doug is serving Italian meatball hoagies, the corn, and baked beans. Improvising the hoagies, we stuffed four meatballs into hot dog buns, drizzled spaghetti sauce over them, then sprinkled on grated mozzarella cheese. Those plates were filled, wrapped and stored in the food warmer.
Crazy is in fine form, and took it well when one of the others sniffed his cup (just checking). Rick has a cold and didn't wear gloves while plating the dinners. Doug is a very happy camper today—seems to be in his element. And Hottie—well, that child's front-desk responsibilities don't let him come to the kitchen nearly often enough! I never thought I'd see the day when a long blond ponytail (on a guy) would catch me drooling.
We served about 20 clients at lunch. The little girl got yet another color of Play-Doh, and the boy got a toy periscope. He's an interesting study, steadily happy, a bit hyper and owning a very short attention span. His mother returned to the counter for her usual "little bit more" whole plate of food.
The truly lovely young woman I mentioned last week was unchanged. Again she presented herself as a special guest, not a client. She ate alone in the back of the room. I asked Doug, "What's her story?" He says she thinks she works there, and truly she does have the air of such a person. It just ain't so. I'll keep digging.
Another attractive young woman came to lunch. She too ate alone. I was interested in the conversation she was having while she ate. I heard her ask, "Did you get the message I sent?" It SO appeared that she must be talking via Bluetooth on a cell phone. Problem was—she didn't have a phone.
I found some Christmas lollipops at the Dollar Tree this week, so everyone got one of those today. At Walmart I found affordable bags of wee Tootsie Rolls and a box of little candy canes. Those should last through Christmas. Crazy still tries to bully me about giving "those people" candy. He says they'll be bouncing off the walls all afternoon (not that he would be affected), but I'm not about to endorse his opinion. As a sober person, he apologizes for his bullying, and we can all live with that!
For next Sunday, Doug said he would steam some cabbage if I would bring four heads. I'll cut them up at home. There are more canned goods in the pantry now, and the apples are holding up. I took a dozen boiled eggs and put them in a bowl on the serving shelf. At the end of lunch, one lone egg caught the lovely lady's eye. She thanked me for bringing boiled eggs, picked it up and told me that she was just going to take it with her, for later.
I had to tell her that taking food from the dining room is verboten, but if she'd put her name on it, we'd keep it in the refrigerator for her. It was interesting how she knew exactly which drawer held a marker! "Those people" have way more access to forbidden areas than we like to think. See you next time!
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