WHERE DO THE HOURS GO?

     Doug had donated meatloaf in the oven for the dinner plates, when I arrived. He had huge pots of green beans and mashed potatoes on the stove. There were 50 PBJs waiting to be sacked, and I set to work. Then he dumped a large bag of canned goods on the work table and told me I was making the soup for lunch, as he deftly opened all of the cans and dumped their contents into a pot. He'd already fried some ground beef to add to the mix. Really, there was little for me to DO!
     I did make up the breakfast sacks, wash some pots and make coffee. Buddy came to the kitchen for a brief visit, but he dares not leave his gatekeeping post for long, as he tends to miss important duties if he tarries. It remains uncertain if Buddy will rise to the occasion of his responsibilities. That gatekeeper post has an awfully high rate of turnover.
     We didn't see Kevin today, but I planted some beach rocks for him out by the back porch.
     Our lunch crowd numbered about 25, but I didn't get involved with them. The little boy and his dad were there, but I'd given him a toy yesterday, and I've come to feel that the child has little appreciation for his gifts. He questions them and often appears a bit dissatisfied. It would be nice if the child appreciated toys just half as much as Kevin loves the gift of a rock.
     Two of the guys from the hotel came for a plate, and Doug always enjoys visiting with them. The gal is ill today, or so they told me, giving me the "we don't really believe her" look.
     Long after the lunch hour ended, two or three residents remained in the dining room, chatting—the Chinese fellow, Fancy Lady, and one other. Fancy Lady is said to be moving out (again) this week.
     My little gay buddy is coping with his job at the hotel. I sense that he's not too happy with it, but it will help him get beyond life in a homeless shelter. A week or so ago, the child expressed his displeasure with the job; I expressed my displeasure with his sadness, and DOUG marched up to the counter to tell the young man that bringing Miss Joy down like that would not be tolerated! I don't know how Doug gets away with those stunts, but he does. The kid gave me a nice smile and immediately adjusted his attitude. Most surprising, I am convinced that he and Doug have an understanding—Doug cares about him, and the kid appreciates it. This is deeply moving.
     By 1:00, Doug and I were tired, and we still had 40 plates to fill for dinner. Doug provided some grape juice to lift our spirits, and those dinner plates almost filled themselves. Still, I hung around there working for so long that I had to cancel my appointment with the H and R Block lady. It's okay, the paperwork is finished.
     Well... for an unemployed person, I am finding a lot of work, and I can't say I mind it. The neighbors, though, seem to miss having someone to gad about with. Surely things will swing back around in time.
     I spoke with Hottie yesterday, during and after several hours in the shelter kitchen. He's thriving at home! And I failed to report on the hours I was there yesterday, but those of us in the kitchen had a lot of fun.
     It looks like I won't be needed again until next Friday, and that's okay!

FABULOUS FRIDAY

     Doug wanted to go home early, so he'd come in early and accomplished much, before I arrived at 10:00. I made 15 sack lunches, 12 breakfast sacks, and finished bagging the PBJs he'd made. Only four people came for a sack at lunchtime. They were no trouble and very quiet, unless we count the autistic boy's mother—she will talk your ears off if you let her.
     For dinner, Doug made turnip greens, carrots and chicken-patty sandwiches. We dished up 40 plates, put them in the warming oven, wiped, mopped, and that was that.
     But in the middle, I introduced Doug to my 50s oldies station. He loves it!
     Then while wheeling the drink bin into the kitchen for refilling, Doug accidentally hit the fire extinguisher. It's sheetrock bolt came out of the wall, and the extinguisher hit the floor. It took Doug only 10 minutes to re-hang the thing, but right in the middle of his dilemma, Lieutenant God came sauntering through the kitchen—cute young fellow in a ball cap—looking for all the world like friendly fire. NOT. I said, "Hey!" He said nothing. 
     He stopped to inquire about the fire extinguisher, and Doug gave him the lowdown. Lt. God reminded Doug, "Clean off my extinguisher when you're finished." It had some sheetrock dust on it… So I am left wondering how focused a man of God can be? The staff say he seldom acknowledges them either. I suggested he might have a touch of OCD... but I really hate letting rudeness off the hook like that.
     On the WAY UPside, when I smelled cigarette smoke, I sent Doug to see who was out around the back stairs. There was Kevin, wearing a very new pair of sunglasses with a sticker on one lens and a price tag hanging over his nose. He wanted a soda. I gave him one. Then I gave him a beach rock that I had taken to “plant” in the yard for him. You’d think it was a gold coin. He was so excited! “I’ll bring you something. I will!” he promised.
Then he decided he needed a cup for his drink, but shortly he returned to say that someone stole his ice—so I replaced it.
     When Doug and I left at 1 o’clock, I planted a few more beach rocks in the little yard by the porch, and Doug pointed out a half-empty bottle of soda that Kevin had parked by the fence corner—for later.

SPRING'S FIRST SUNDAY

     It's a beautiful day here, and we had the back kitchen door open. Doug made his well-loved potato soup, and we served corn dogs on the side. For dinner he had grilled chicken strips with red and green peppers floating in brown gravy to serve over rice. There were peas on the side and a roll. We made up 40 plates.
     The lunch crowd was smaller than on cold days. The little boy came in, and I gave him a model race car kit. He had that thing put together and dripping glue in about 30 minutes. Then he asked Doug for some paint, and Doug said he'd bring some tomorrow.
     Buddy was keeping the gate, but his stomach was upset, so Doug told him to stay up front in the office. During lunch, Buddy let in two young men who don't live there, and they came boldly into the dining room wearing large backpacks and looking for a soda. I'm guessing Buddy will get more than one tongue lashing for that faux pas.
     Fancy Lady was there, of course. Apparently, she truly hasn't another thing in this world to do.
     Kevin came to the back door after lunch and asked for Doug. I offered him coffee, but he wanted Doug to get it for him... he wanted a bottled coffee drink that I didn't know about. He also wanted a sack lunch. I had opportunity to gauge his walking issues, and he appears to have cerebral palsy affecting his legs from the knees down. His rock collection was artistically displayed on a metal machine on the stair landing. When he left us, he resumed rock collecting in the nearby yard. Maybe I'll find him some pretty pebbles…
     The kids from the hotel staff across the street came for soup. Doug and I got more lessons on hotel housekeeping. Glad I'm not volunteering with anything like that! The girl in the group spotted some Valentine's candy in boxes under our prep table. Her eyes lit up as she pointed and said, "Valentine's candy!" I picked up a large heart-shaped gift box and a handful of little heart-shaped chocolates and asked her which would she like. The gift box, of course. For her today had a touch of Christmas—I don't know which of us enjoyed it more.
     During the hustle of lunch and dinner prep, we made a dozen lunch sacks, a dozen breakfast sacks and 25 PBJ sacks.
     I'm campaigning with the shelter to recycle. I've met with resistance, but am slowly breaking them down. Doug has even come around and begun recycling 12-pack soda boxes. As for plastic bags (bread wrappers, etc.), I bring them home to drop at the grocery store later, and today I scored a milk jug! It's a start. Heretofore, ALL of those things have gone straight into the landfill.
     Lanyard Guy started cooking this week, which will give Doug two days off, but first Doug has to train him, and it hasn't gone well. It's looking like some folks are gifted with gate keeping and some with kitchen duties, but seldom both. Doug was amazed to note Lanyard Guy taking 40 minutes to open a can of beans and put them in a pot. This is going to be an interesting unfold. See you on Friday—God willing.
     

IT'S FRIDAY AGAIN, ALREADY!

     Doug is well! We teamed up to get out of there by 2 o'clock, and everything ran like a top. I made 25 sack lunches, 25 PBJ sacks and 12 breakfasts sacks, and Doug made dinner. Then we plated dinner, washed dishes, wiped down the sinks and counters, and he mopped. It was a good day!
     Only a half dozen residents came for a sack lunch. I hardly noticed them.
     Kevin visited us again today. He pounded on the back door to ask Doug for a cup of coffee. Doug invited me out to meet Kevin who stood there a bit wobbly and wrapped in a floor-length, black coat. His wobbliness appears to be a mild physical disability. Aside from getting coffee, Kevin was busy organizing his things on our back steps and up on the porch. He was quick to tell me that some bad guys had stolen all his money, never missing a beat with organizing bits of this and that. Doug explained later that Kevin's money is the pebbles he collects from around the sidewalks. He had an assortment of bits and pieces of debris laid out on a step, carefully going through it. He spoke of many things and nothing at all. He's not old—perhaps 40; he has a neat gray goatee and very nice teeth. Those are the extent of Kevin's wealth.

DAY FOUR—LET'S CALL IT FRIDAY

     I arrived at 10:30 this morning, per Buddy's instructions, but he slept late and didn't get there until after 11:00. Two ladies were already there, making sack lunches. God bless them! There was plenty for me to do because the kitchen was left in sad repair last night; yesterday's potato pot hadn't even been washed.
     The ladies left before noon, and Buddy and I set to work serving sack lunches—only 8 or so. Then we made decisions about tonight's dinner. I am determined to use those 50 pounds of fresh potatoes, so we peeled another 10 pounds and cubed them. Then we peeled and sliced a bunch of carrots that came from a 20-pound bag. Most of those carrots were "growing things," and some of their things were growing things! After we culled out what we needed, I tossed the other 18 pounds.
     But what we did with our vegetables was new and exciting, if you've ever been to camp and cooked veggies wrapped in foil. We wrapped them in foil, seasoned them with herbs and butter and baked them for an hour. They were so fine!
     There was a whole pan of meatloaf left from the high-end restaurant's donation, and Buddy wanted to use that for dinner again. After all, he said everyone loved it! We found some rolls in the freezer and baked those to finish off the plates. 
    By now, dinner is over; I hope it went well. 
    Doug plans to return tomorrow and begin training Lanyard Guy. My feet feel like they'd be in the way there tomorrow—that's my story. And speaking of stories: I'm becoming accustomed to hearing folks say, "I've been clean and sober for a year now!" Doubt if I'll ever make that grade…

DAY THREE—I LIVED

    My neighbor joined me at the shelter today. When she asked for an assignment, I handed her a 10-pound sack of potatoes (donated yesterday). Thank goodness she was there to peel those because fresh vegetables are seldom used due to their processing needs. Those 10 pounds, sans bad spots, produced enough for 30 dinner plates.
     Buddy and I heated some of yesterday's donated meatloaf and a can of peas for the other two plate slots, then put a hot roll in the middle. Dinner for tonight looks good!
     For lunch, we cooked frozen pizzas—those cardboard things with fake toppings. However, we generously slathered them with shredded cheeses and ham. Then we found some canned pineapple in the pantry, so some of the pizza was "ham and pineapple," and folks liked it! There were two fellows sleeping on the floor of the foyer when we went to the pantry. It always surprises me to see those guys, and I hope I never become immune to the sight of them.
     My neighbor left after about 2 hours, but Buddy and I still had many chores, and truthfully I believe a third person on that shift would be a good thing. Buddy is often busy gatekeeping, and I am not able to do heavy cleaning, but I'm learning my way around the dishwasher, the 5-gallon disposal, stacking soda crates out back, and not letting the door close behind me…
     I filled another 8 cups of coffee into another 8 filters.
     The Chinese fellow was there today, and he offered two old sayings, but I didn't have time to write them down. The little boy came in with his dad, and I gave his dad a wooden airplane kit. Then I gave the child a paddle ball. "I want an airplane!" the child whined.
     "Yes, but maybe you could use someone to help you with the instructions," I suggested. He was not amused. Dad pocketed the airplane kit, and later I saw the child jumping around with his paddle ball. I hope they have a good bonding moment constructing the plane.
     Buddy is such a treasure and so entertaining. He often offers a bit of theater such as returning to the kitchen and holding out his hands as if to ask for this dance (the music is always going). I showed him how I "dip" my broom partner. He has many fun voices too, as do I—we'll have a voice-off one of these days.
     The lady who called to ask me to come in these past 3 days was there briefly this morning. She smiled apologetically and said "thank you," as if I were doing something heroic. I assured her the pleasure is all mine, but I understand how she sees it—as a job. Sad.
     So that's it for this week—until Friday and unless there is a crisis before then. Ima miss it.

DAY TWO—THINK IMA DIE

     In at 10 a.m., out at 3:15. I was greeted this morning by an adorable young fellow who said he is Hottie's best buddy and newly hired to be a gatekeeper, but for today he was to be my kitchen helper. His eyes are like two large brown marbles—just cute as a bug. It feels like Hottie left a bit of himself here for me, and Buddy does nicely! He had rolls of ground beef thawing in the meat sink so we could make spaghetti for dinner.
     I've never worked so hard in that kitchen as I did today, and I'm not sure how much stamina I'll have for tomorrow. Because Buddy is in training for gatekeeping, he was not available as often as I wished. We were serving sack lunches, but we had 20-some folks in-house because it's Saturday, plus it is cold, so I made a big pot of stone soup. They ate nearly all of it, some having three bowls.
     The kids from the hotel across the street came for lunch—this might be my first-ever Saturday there, and it's not like weekdays or Sundays. Oh, did I mention that Doug is sick? He's on antibiotics and cannot come back for at least 2 days. He was not happy that I had been asked to come today; he felt that his Sunday lady was being abused, but she's not.
     Kevin (you remember Kevin who slept on the back steps and made himself an "apartment" in a trash can) was sleeping in the lobby this morning. Obviously, he's out of jail. He's a scrap of a human, and when he is hunched over a table with his head on his arms, the only thing about him that is discernable is that he appears to be a human. When I first passed him, on the way to the food pantry, I thought he was a manakin. His gender, his race, or even that he is alive were not evident. I so wanted to pat him on the back but dared not disturb him. Human misery can be lower than we generally imagine...from way up here in our lofty lives.
     We'll serve sack lunches again tomorrow, but I found a very large ham in the fridge (left from last week), and we will chop that tomorrow and mix it with beans for dinner. Pickin's are so slim in that pantry! There is NO fruit of any kind. In an emergency, I would make a foray of the freezer, but I'm saving that for an emergency…
     There isn't much to tell about our folks today; I was too busy hustling. The 9-year-old boy, Fancy Lady, the autistic teen and his mom and my little gay fellow (still happy!) were all there, including many other familiar faces. Doug was missed—maybe mostly by me!

This is what sack lunches and stone soup look like.

THE THREE-DAY WEEKEND

     I went in for my usual Friday helping Doug. That boy was dragging; he is NOT WELL! He thinks he just has a bad case of exhaustion (his 2-day relief doesn't start until next week), but in the meantime, Doug is almost down for the count. He alerted the gatekeeper that he might not be in tomorrow.
     We pulled together (he even let me sweep the dining room), until every little thing was accomplished, and we darkened the kitchen and hit the parking lot together at a very early 1 o'clock. Understand, I have never swept or mopped there, but today, there were needs of all sorts.
     For lunch, of course, we served only sack lunches (8), but dinner was prepared, plated and put in the warming oven for 4 o'clock. He had pans of barbecue. We made 43 barbecue sandwiches and plated them with baked beans and carrots. We finished them in record time.
     A few minutes ago, the gatekeeper called to ask me if I would come in tomorrow to help her (in case Doug is too ill) OR to help Doug even if he's able. Of course I will! Don't be silly.

STONE SOUP and LIVER SPOTS

     The plan was for me to make "my soup" today, but Doug got excited when he arrived at 9 this morning, and he put a bunch of the ingredients in a big pot. When I got there at 10, he couldn't wait to show me his creation! And he'd done well. All it needed was a half gallon of water, a can of pintos and some pasta noodles. "I didn't know you could put beans in the soup," he said.
     "Sure you can. It's stone soup; you can put most anything you have in it."
     He ate 2 bowls full, long before we served lunch. We had grilled cheese sandwiches and cubes of cheddar and pepper jack, for those who wanted them. Nearly everything was consumed, and many of our guests had 2 and 3 servings! Even the Fancy Lady had three bowls of soup. I'm still scrutenizing—she has liver spots on her hands—dead giveaway to senior citizenship. Hottie once told Doug that she was 70. I simply cannot believe that—but beautiful she is, and young she is not. She calls me "Sweetie." I wonder if that's a "sweet old thing" sweetie or a "young little thing" sweetie.
     Speaking of discernment: One of our resident men told Doug last week that his wife was a nice lady. Doug said, "When did you meet my wife?"
     "She's here with you every Sunday," the man said.
     "No... not my wife… that's Miss Joy."
     "Well, y'all get along like husband and wife."
     This gives us a LOT of pause because one wonders if "get along" means all the fun we have together or how we jab one another like teenagers or what. Too, Doug and my first born are the same age. Still, when you put a ball cap on us, we all look about the same, I guess.
     Most of the regulars were there, but our young Chinese fellow was not. I'm coming to know this group fairly well, and that makes it much easier to address them and meet their needs. When the 9-year-old boy came to the counter, I asked him if he'd like a toy. I can never read his responses. There's no excitement in his eyes. I found some little playthings for him in my bag and a very nice candy from the donations box. "Don't eat this until you finish your lunch," I told him. He seemed pleased. Later, when most folks had left the dining room, I spotted the little one trying to sneak up on a man at another table (apparently they are friends). So I put on my pretend binoculars to "watch." The child gave me a secretive eye and put his finger to his lips. We were in that sneak together.
     Also, the three "kids" from the hotel across the street came for a plate of lunch and a visit. They are always amusing, and Doug and I learn about the hotel business—today's lesson was on bed making (tight sheets are a must). My little gay fellow has taken a job at the hotel too, and he was in extra-high spirits today! I love to see them happy.
     BOB (from years ago) dropped in around 1 o'clock. Doug hadn't seen him in many months. He stayed long enough for a bowl of soup and a sandwich then went on to his job. Doug said, "He wanted something, but I can't figure out what it was." Folks will come there wanting things, but surely my presence stopped BOB in his tracks. I always enjoyed working with him; we don't know why he doesn't volunteer there anymore.
     We filled 25 PBJ sacks and 12 breakfast sacks before putting up 40 dinner plates. Between the two of us, Doug and I accomplished the work of three people today. Each plate also had a roll in the center.

     Hottie sent us a couple of text messages near the end of our shift. We surely miss him.
     One of our old gatekeepers (Lanyard Guy) is returning to work a couple of days a week in the kitchen so Doug can catch his breath. I look forward to seeing him again—nice fellow.
     

QUIET FRIDAY

     Doug and I spent 4 hours cooking and sacking today. A lot of folks from the offices came to the kitchen for coffee, and two head honchos cruised through. It's cold and raining—a good day to be in a kitchen.
     Only five came for sack lunches, the Fancy Lady among them. I said to Doug, "She doesn't work a job, does she?" The residents who work are not there for lunch… and Doug said, "She's too refined to work." No one in our part of the building knows her secrets, but I'll keep my ear to the ground; this is a most unusual story.
     For dinner, we made 40 plates of fried catfish and okra with turnip greens and cornbread. That is good food! On Sunday, I'm making the soup, and Doug will provide a side. See you Sunday! 

AND HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CHINESE?

    Doug had the bagels on the work table when I arrived. I knew what to do with them. As he continued to work feverishly with dishwashing, mopping and dinner prep, I made 12 breakfast sacks and then 24 sandwiches for 12 sack lunches.

    A sweet young woman who works full-time there in the offices is now keeping the gate, and one of our previous gatekeepers will take the night duty (8 p.m. to 8 a.m.). I cannot imagine such a duty! Anyway, the place is functioning, but each one of us has a hole in our heart. The gatekeeper asked me if I would hire on to do lunch one day a week, and Doug told her the lifting would be too heavy. I'm thankful he saved me. Then he said I could be gatekeeper, but later he admitted to me that I'd be much too soft on the people. "Miss Joy, they beg for things! You'd hate it." That, and knowing that danger is as close as the front door are enough to dissuade me anyway.

    Doug made the potato soup and fried chicken nuggets for lunch. Each diner got fresh, homemade peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies too! Those were lovingly prepared by my next-door neighbor. The shelter hasn't seen a homemade cookie in God-knows how long.

    Lunch was heavily attended today. I got to spend a few minutes with my little gay fellow—he's a bit down, but he's going to job interviews regularly. His dream is to own a boutique—one that serves coffee. I imagined some pretty clothes and accessories accompanied by the scent of Barnes and Noble. It's an idea.

    A new face came to the counter—very handsome, tall fellow (says he's 38 and wants credit for not being a kid). I told him, "I once had a husband who looked a lot like you." His curiosity was piqued!

     "What was he?" he asked. 

     "A wife beater and child abuser."

     "I mean what was his background?"
     "What do you mean?"
     "Where was he from?"

     "Oh. Just the South," I said.

     "Really? I'm full Chinese, you know."

     I was honest, "No, I didn't see that."

    I'm beginning to see souls. Why do we do that when it's too late to make much of an impact with what's left of our lives?

    So that led into further conversation, and I feel strongly that I have a new friend—for whatever reason. He spent quite a while playing with my little Play Doh boy who got the can of red today. It appears that the child is accompanied by his grandfather—a man with little energy for a 9-year-old.

    "Shot Cat" sweetie came to lunch. She's quiet today.

    To my great surprise, Fancy Lady has returned! The RULE is that once a person leaves the shelter's warm embrace, they are not allowed to return for a period of one year. The other women there are "pissed," according to Doug. Seems that Fancy Lady does a lot of "preaching" to them, and they don't want to hear it. ALSO, when she moved back in, Doug had to carry in her 57-inch television. Surely, there is a most curious story here—I'll stay tuned if you will.

    When the dining room was empty at last, I sought out Doug for a selfie of us to send to Hottie, but he was on the back porch talking on the phone. I figured he could multitask, so I approached him there and held out my phone for a picture. He said, "Oh, Miss Joy, here," and handed me his phone—it was Hottie :)

    We must have talked for 15 minutes. Hottie was with one of his kids, and they were working on a project for school. He wanted her to meet Miss Joy, so he put her on the phone and we chatted a bit. They are SO HAPPY to be together again! Too, I had the only picture of Hottie in his ponytail, and his kids wanted to see it. He is letting them into the whole story of his absence, which just sets him higher on my pedestal.

   After the long phone fest, Doug and I set to work filling the dinner plates with rice smothered in meatballs and gravy, peas and a roll. We made 40.

    And about the new radio/CD player... I might be just a tad sorry to have provided that—it surely plays well enough to drown out a lot of banter. Oh, and I killed my first squirrel today—it had run under the car and made a "thump-bump" before I knew it was there. To my dismay, they don't necessarily just fall down dead.

NEW BEGINNINGS

     Doug didn't have any help today, and I had nothing to do, so I went again to the shelter, taking a new radio/CD player with me. Our kitchen music has been barely tolerable for a long, long time. I wish you could have seen Doug opening the box and plugging in his new toy. He was adept with the adjustments, and within a minute he had his favorite station playing loud and clear. We've never heard such clarity.
     Doug was quick to take the old radio out the back door and heave it into the dumpster. That was a proud moment!
     I had burned two CDs for him as well, and he was eager to play them—labeled 1a and 1b. I told him not to play 1b because it was made yesterday when I was grieving. Still, after a couple of hours, he put it on, and soon he yelled across the room, "Boy, you weren't kidding! This is bringing ME down!"
     "Nothing a bottle of wine wouldn't fix." I shouted back.
     On the really exciting front, I hadn't been there 5 minutes before Doug said Hottie had texted him from the bus! He was in Memphis and expected to be home in another 6 hours.
     About that time, the autistic kid's mom came to the counter for coffee and proudly showed us HER TEXTED  PICTURE OF HOTTIE. Doug and I were jealous! Most shocking of all was the haircut the boy got before he left town—that heavenly ponytail is history. He wanted a whole new life, and I had to admit he looks mighty fine in the new do.
     Before the afternoon was over, I too was texting Hottie, and he was much farther down the road. Tonight, he's home with his family, and just as I write, I have a picture of them—together at last.
     You don't need a rundown of the many sack lunches, breakfast sacks, dinner plates and sundry other duties we carried out. Suffice it to say my back was sore when I left in the rain, in the Friday afternoon traffic, through the road work... it was a long way home here too.