THE DREGS

I dragged in late today, stopping for a minute to give Kevin a couple of beach rocks. He pointed me to his collection of rocks on the machine on the back steps and told me of many things that I can no longer recall. Most of all, he'd have kept company with me all day, had I let him. Funny fellow. He tells Doug that the police have threatened him with "the big house" (real prison) if he doesn't learn to behave. I'm hoping that's just our finest's way of trying to help Kevin—Lord knows he doesn't belong in the big house. He's happily re-ensconced in his fenced-in vacant lot.

Lunch and dinner were well prepared when I arrived. ALL of the sandwiches were made and in boxes. Doug and I sacked them, stapled them, and brushed off our hands. Nothing to do but putter. I made the coffee, he washed the pots, and soon the diners came in—a nice crowd of about 30. My little boy is convalescing from a tonsillectomy, so he stayed in his room, but I sent him crayons and a super-hero coloring book. My little gay guy got kicked out last week for smoking in the storage room downstairs. Actually, four guys got the boot for that, and BUDDY had unlocked the door to let them in there. Buddy is lucky to still have his job!

Doug still struggles with the peanut butter bag. I got you a picture of it! The top has been scissored off; I guess that helps. Do remember: the outside looked much like the inside before I cleaned it. And poor Box!

All three kids from the hotel came for a plate. Doug says two of them have been fired, but replacements haven't been found, so they are still working. It's confusing.

Oh, and those "stolen Easter hams" turned up in the freezer, with the rest of the hams! Yes, it's a mystery.

Lunch was mini corn dogs, French fries and broccoli soup with cheese. It was well received.

We plated 35 dinners before I left: meatloaf, mashed spuds, green beans and a roll.

Most of all, Doug had been sorely missed! That kitchen cannot be coordinated without him. No amount of cheerful volunteers can zip in there and keep the place running smoothly. Two loaves of bread will NOT be okay, and a gallon of carrots will rot if not used. Someone left a huge puddle of spillage in the oven, and no one cleaned it up, because DOUG was coming back on Thursday… 

EASTER 2019

     More than 5 hours later, I look back and see a day of frustration, tired feet, and little accomplished.
     One of those hours was spent wiping peanut butter off of the inside and the outside of an enormous plastic bag. It's a thick bakery-size bag of peanut butter. The peanut butter is in the bottom of the bag, and it's easy to scoop out a few cups for PBJs. The bag had remained pristine for weeks, as we dug out the goo for our sandwiches then twisted and folded it over. The bag was in a nice cardboard box.
     Today, I found the box simply nasty with peanut butter oil and the bag was slathered inside and out from the base mound of product to the top. Someone had taken out large servings and simply smashed the bag down into itself… difficult to describe…nearly impossible to undo!!! I mean @$#%^&!!
     For lunch we were going to serve ham, but someone stole two big hams from the refrigerator last night, so Easter Sunday lunch was donated foods. Fortunately, there was a mass of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, long tender green beans and a large pan of cobbler. There were pans of food to throw away… The cooler also held many pans of other donated foods from high-dollar restaurants, but those just don't seem to get served very often.
     Understand that Doug has been on vacation all week, and Buddy has been working as gatekeeper and cook. This is not good! It's not safe!
     Someone had put a huge baking sheet in the warming oven with a large piece of plastic-covered paper which had melted and was stuck on the sheet. I spent at least 30 minutes soaking and picking at that.
     Buddy had prepared the 12 breakfast sacks, but there were only 6 lunch sacks, so I made another 15. Bread is running very low, and what we had was dry. Buddy says it's okay because Doug is coming back on Tuesday. "Yes, but he shouldn't come back to find that we're out of bread!" Buddy's not worried…
     My dyed eggs didn't go over as well as they used to, and while the stuffed bunnies were eagerly accepted, they didn't inspire the free-for-all of times past. Lunch was only about 20 souls and no children (thank goodness). Oh... my daughter came to help, and help she did! She served those donated lunches and tried to check off the names of the diners. When Fancy Lady came to the counter, Daughter asked, "What's your bed number?" Fancy Lady said nothing. Daughter asked again. Fancy lady had no answer. Daughter tried again. Fancy Lady said, "I'm Susan. I'm in transitional housing."
     That information didn't help Daughter at all, so I took the pen and marked Fancy Lady as having come to lunch. BOY, does she think she's fancy!
     Autistic boy was not there… but his mom was, and she was so quiet. She also appeared exhausted. Of course, if I had to deal with that boy every day, I'd be exhausted too.
     Only one of the guys from the hotel across the street came for a lunch. He was surprised to see our kitchen in such a disorganized state, but he enjoyed his plate of food.
     For dinner, Buddy dropped some chicken and fish fillets in the deep fryer; Daughter prepared and steamed donated cabbages, we heated biscuits, and the mac 'n cheese from lunch will be served again.     So that's it. I've eagerly anticipated this day for months… but that's it. Life is like that.

IT'S ALL JUST A BLUR

     I worked yesterday, but I remember little.
     Memories of today are solid but oh, so few. Doug wasted no time this morning asking me to fill out his 13-page employee job description. He needs to turn it in tomorrow. We both knew where the writer in the group was, so I had no reason to deny him the help. After all, the information would come from him, and the writing from me. My wrist is still sore.
     While I wrote, Doug feverishly sacked all the lunches, PBJs and breakfast sacks. He also prepared lunch and served half of it. We had broccoli soup with cheese, crackers and chicken salad. The dining room was very, very quiet. I reminded Doug that Joey used to say "if they're laughing, that's how you can tell if they like it." The food was not well received, and diners were few. The small crowd was odd because it was raining cats and dogs.
     For dinner, Doug made pasta with cream sauce, carrots and a roll. He filled the plates himself while I continued to write.
     Our truck driver came in and helped Doug balance the new refrigerator. He brought his family and they had a meal. The kids from the hotel across the street came for a meal. All together, those people probably cost me 90 minutes of good writing time.
     As the afternoon loomed, Doug became almost frantic. Finally, at 4 o'clock I finished copying all the material we had amassed onto the sheets the company provided, with one additional sheet. I even sent Doug home with a paragraph to add. We were desperate to get out of there and, for the first time ever, I saw the dinner crowd come in—they eat at 4, you know. Buddy had that duty to himself.
     With Doug on vacation all next week, I do not plan to darken the shelter door until Sunday. He won't be there, but I want to take Easter eggs and bunnies for the residents. Easter Sunday has always been a happy time at the shelter, but I'm not expecting great things this year; it's just so different there now.

SCUTTLEBUTT!

     Doug and I enjoyed another Friday in the kitchen, while shelter staff filled the rest of the building. He had prepared a Dr. Pepper bottle with grape juice for me... I mean, really... it was too early, but who can turn down that much care? I'm not turning that down!

     There was so little for me to do. Doug had dinner in the oven, and he had made all the sandwiches for all the lunch sacks and the PBJs! We assembled those with drinks and chips, but that only took 20 minutes. After that, he had nothing to offer me but thanks for keeping him company... and company was the word of the day!

     The staff was very often in the kitchen today—they seemed hyper, and that was fitting for some of our events. A  very fine restaurant sent us a carload of goodies—pastries, rice with saffron(!) and more pastries! Staff came out of the woodwork for the pastries. Doug and I declared our lunch hours and partook of the rice dish.

     While cruising the back porch, we noticed an addition to the sidewalk across the street. A man in a sleeping bag was standing there, as if in a cloth phone booth, assuming no one would notice the big puddle he was leaving on the concrete wall. He was a long time talking on his phone. This act raises myriad questions for me, as I was a long time affording a cell phone! He sat with his back against the wall for awhile. Three of us were watching; I took pictures (of course), and the big question was who was he?

     Those who are there every day know all of the street people, and Doug and Secretary wanted very badly to identify the mystery in the sleeping bag. Finally, they nailed him—the man who tore our water fountain off the wall last week! Doug closed the back door.

     I left at 1:00 for an appointment. Cruising thru town, the radio was playing Bob Dylan's "Everybody Must Get Stoned." By strange happenstance, I noticed a woman whose gait was weak. She and a man were approaching the local gas market that is known for selling things that lift one's spirits—legally and otherwise. She's too thin and she's too young to be decrepit, but there she was, going certainly for another fix, bringing the song to life. It's not so cool when it's live.

     Tomorrow I plan to serve again. We'll provide a hot lunch for the residents, and plate their dinners, as always. I need to put something special in my bag for the boy.

POLICE, AMBULANCE OR FIRE?

     We got one of everything today, and I DO love a uniform!
     For lunch, I spent $16 of my hard-earned social security check on pie shells, eggs, sour cream, black olives and mushrooms. Doug deep fried sausages and chopped up some of them for my creations. I made six quiches. Most had all of the ingredients, but one had only cheese, and Doug's had no olives.
     We had just enough time to create and bake six quiches before lunch. I was hustling, but I did take a minute to peer off the back porch at Kevin's "home" in the lot across the street. His big blue trash can was overturned, and his belongings appeared strewn about, so I asked after him. Doug said Kevin was arrested again. At least he'll be fed and dry—it's gonna be a rainy week.

Kevin's place in the vacant lot.

The 25 PBJ sacks in their tub that is rolled out to the street every day.
Each bag contains two PBJ sandwiches, a napkin, a soft drink and a cookie.
Bon Appétit…

     During that period, Buddy called Doug to come up front and help him. He's still new at gate keeping, but he seems to be holding his own (mostly). Today's issue involved a man who had come in the foyer and asked for a bed. Buddy told him we didn't have any, so the man tore the water cooler off the wall. Doug went up front and put the cooler back in place and shut off the water supply until a repairman could come. Soon, the meanie returned and slammed that cooler again, using his backpack. It's still on the floor.

One like this.

     Meanwhile, the police were summoned. Of course, the man ran off, but the police got his name and the fact that he has been banned from the shelter, so I suspect he'll be arrested shortly. Doesn't matter: I got to look at that uniform for 10 minutes while he took notes from Doug.
     So the question of the day was about the quiche. Will they eat it? We served the plates with one "pie slice," a sausage link and home fries. About 30 people came to lunch, and I believe only two turned down the quiche. Many came for seconds, and many were experiencing their first quiche. Fancy Lady asked for some to take back to the cooler in her room. I know… but I wrapped it for her and we pretended we were sneaking. She still lives there—her moving-out event is a long time coming.

Quiche with grated sharp cheddar, black olives, fresh chives,
chopped sausage, sautéed mushrooms, sour cream and milk.

     After lunch, the autistic boy's enormous mom was back at the counter (after three servings) just to chat with whomever was available. Someone mentioned how good the quiche was, and I heard  the woman say, "Yes! Doug made it!" Sigh…
     The kids from the hotel across the street came and ate. After that, Doug and I had time to make plans for future lunches. He slammed my French toast idea, but he does want more quiche, and he wants to make the pie crust in-house, so it won't be as sweet as pre-made pastry. I agree. I saved the pans, he'll order some pie crust mix, eggs and sour cream… and we won't be dipping into social security next time. Works for me! Best of all, he really wants a next time.
     We had a lot of cleaning to do, and then we filled 35 dinner plates for the warming oven. Dinner tonight will be mashed potatoes, green beans, Salisbury steak and a roll.
     As I was packing to leave, Doug came racing up to me saying, "Go up front and see what's going on! They've got an ambulance and a firetruck and everything!" He didn't want to become known as Buddy's savior, I suppose; so, I went up front.
     "What's going on?" I asked Buddy. Some fellow had come in off the street and asked for a bed. Of course he couldn't have one, but Buddy thought the fellow was too pale, shaky and sweaty. The water fountain was not an option at that point. Buddy got the man some water, and called 911. When I left, it looked like the EMTs were drawing blood, and the man was still able to sit upright.
     I followed the fire truck as I left to come home. It's nice here at home, but at other places today, life is so hard.

FRIDAYS ARE NOT BORING!

     Doug and I had the place to ourselves today, except for the occasional office worker who came in for coffee. The weather allowed us to leave the back door open, and we got a view of Kevin's "apartment" in the fenced-in vacant lot across the street. He has a large trash can (for sleeping), a metal folding chair, and sundry other items that complete his home.
     We watched him scrutinizing the ground for rocks and other treasures; he waved.
     Later we heard the rumble of a large plastic container in the street. A young man dressed in a "yellow vest" was hauling the container and some traffic cones up near Kevin's place. He stopped there and began a lengthy visit with Kevin. It didn't take Doug and me long to realize that the fellow was just as "free" as Kevin.
     Doug gave Kevin some hand signals, telling him to not let the other fellow come inside his fence, and that worked well. Then the two street urchins began chatting and having a bit of show and tell through the fence. Doug wanted to worry, but I told him, "They're playing. You need to remember they are just little boys in their minds."
     The new fellow had large black plastic bags, and he spent some time putting street trash in them. The only visual that separated him from a "city employee" was his backpack. Eventually, our visitor took his big plastic cart and literally rode it down the street, as one might ride behind a grocery cart.
     The Fancy Lady came to lunch asking, naturally, for special favors (different salad dressing, real milk for her coffee). I didn't tell her our milk expired last Sunday. Yes, she could have used the powdered creamer. Anyway, I'd heard she was moving out, but there is no evidence of that.
     Lunch, you understand, was just sack lunches, and only five or six folks came for one.
     For dinner, Doug made fried okra, turnip greens, fried catfish and cornbread. We filled 40 plates, he mopped, and our day was done by 2 o'clock! "Miss Joy," he said, "I just love it when you are here!" One must assume it's the company because my physical labor surely didn't amount to more than 45 minutes' worth.
     A couple came to the shelter today looking for food. They had a 2-year-old child. The only problem was that the child was a totally different color than the couple. They are homeless. Many questions need answering. Someone called Social Services. I wish all three of them well.