THE SICK, THE SAD, AND THE ODD

     One of our ex-gatekeepers is hanging out at the kitchen this week—avoiding a hoard of siblings who have turned up from far and wide to see what they might gain from their mother's passing. Anyway, said ex-gatekeeper was safe in the kitchen with Doug and me, and he was so very pleasant and helpful.
     We did no cooking, as lunch was more of those horrid donated BBQ chicken nuggets, yellow rice, and chicken on skewers. Our several refrigerators and freezers are overflowing still (more). For dinner, we made 31 plates of pinto beans, peas 'n carrots, and turkey. The turkey was frozen 6 or 8 months ago and had long since lost its inviting aroma, but what can we do? Personally, I just went without lunch and scrounged a wee bag of chips from the pantry.
     Our Sunday-lunch guests included "my little boy" whom I have not seen in many weeks. He spoke to me from his seat at a table, but I couldn't hear him for all the kitchen noise, so I went into the dining room to hear him better. "I'm cold," he said. And he was having chills. I put my cheek on his forehead and announced to Doug, "This baby has a fever."
     The child's father entered our conversation. He was especially upset by this fever, as the child has strep throat for which treatment was begun on Friday, and not only that, but the child's tonsils were removed 2 months ago, supposedly to halt his too-frequent upper respiratory infections.
     I gave the child some school supplies from my godmother bag, and asked him if he'd like some chicken noodle soup. No. He might eat some chicken and rice soup. Half an hour later I had found a can of chicken and noodle homestyle Healthy Choice soup and replaced the noodles with yellow rice from a donation pan. Dad put the soup in the big wall fridge, then took the child to the ER. He hadn't given him the "pain and fever" med since last night, so I reminded him to stay on top of that… He's a super dad, but he's a guy.
     Our other child (Spanky, the extra fluffy one) came to lunch today. He asked me to bring him a sack of fried pizza rolls that is kept in the freezer for him. "Don't you eat regular food?" I asked. No, he doesn't, and boy is he overweight! I asked him, too, if he needed school supplies, and he said someone had provided those last week. Still, he appeared envious as I handed color pencils, crayons, eraser and glue to the other child.
     An hour past lunchtime, the nurse with the therapy dog came for a meal. She got a sack lunch. She was with "her new friend," as Doug calls him. Her new friend is that very tall, very skinny young man I mentioned last week (the one who was newly released from prison and never wants to go back). Doug had been trying to tell me that the young man was gay, but I wasn't buying it just because Doug said so.
     And then there he was, even taller than last week, in his black suede 6-inch boots. Well... maybe he just likes to dress up on Sundays.
     Doug had gatekeeper duty, so once or twice an hour he'd go up front to see if anyone needed to be let in. Things were quiet on that front. No EMTs today, no evil people, and only a few vagrants.
     And that's how I left the place, well after 2 o'clock, having done little more than serve a few plates and keep company with some folks. My friend Sylvia always said, "Company is good to the grave."