Doug greeted me this morning with a sweet gift and birthday card. Great way to start any day!
He had dinner in the oven and the PBJs ready to sack. We also made 20 meat-sandwich lunch sacks.
Remember those meals Doug prepared for Major God's church—those meals that no one collected—those meals that were thrown away? Today, Major God told one of the office workers that he had decided to "just serve dessert." He never told Doug on Sunday. I've noted before how difficult the man seems to find it to be basically polite or thoughtful. The office workers are beginning to pay special attention to that man's behaviors. Stay tuned.
We had about 10 for sack lunches, among them a new fellow who is 85 years old and who has a caregiver with him! This is a situation that I've not seen before. The old fellow wanted to go into town after lunch, so Doug arranged for one of the younger residents to accompany him and his caregiver. I dunno.
As for Kevin… his apartment is completely cleaned out. "Major God sent him away," Doug said.
"Really?" I asked. "What did he say to Kevin?"
"Oh, he never actually spoke to Kevin; he told an office worker and she told the gatekeeper…" So it was handed down until someone told Kevin to clean up his place and not return there to sleep. About 2 p.m. today, we heard Kevin's knock. He looked good! Well… for Kevin. He had a lot on his mind. First, he said, he wanted to tell me about his encounter with the police… "and then I want a cup of ice, a drink, and a snack and a Gatorade." I stood there several minutes while he recounted his legal issues. I think he was telling me that a policeman had called the station to see if there were any warrants out on him and that he was proud to report there was none. He put his fist to his mouth several times as if speaking into a radio receiver, as he gave me both sides of the conversation he'd witnessed.
Kevin's words are not very clear, his little body bent and unsteady. I gave him a sack lunch, a cup of ice and a Gatorade. Doug went out onto the porch to chat with him.
We filled 37 plates for dinner: meatloaf (frozen long ago), mashed potatoes, peas 'n carrots with a roll, and that's a wrap.
Friday, August 16, 2019
Sunday, August 11, 2019
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."
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."
Friday, August 9, 2019
THE VERY SLOW DAY
The porch appeared tidy when I approached the back stairs this morning, but on second glance I found Kevin sound asleep, sitting upright, exactly as he was 3 hours later. We must find help for Kevin. He is always welcome at the county jail, but that is not helping him.
Doug was extremely proud to tell me that all we had to do was sack the meat sandwiches—that took 10 minutes. Lunch was in the oven and among the donations in the walk-in fridge. There were massive amounts of aluminum baking pans filled with restaurant donations in that fridge, in the walk-in freezer and in the wide, lighted wall fridge—meals, was far as the taste buds could imagine. Too far.
The lunch bunch numbered about 10, and some had the gall to come as much as 90 minutes late, but everyone was pleasant. After that, Doug spent some time helping the gatekeeper with a man who made her nervous… and then a woman came in who was feeling suicidal. They gave her a sack lunch, but very soon she was hauled off by the EMTs. The shelter foyer receives many visitors from the streets—the saddest in winter.
Doug and I plated 37 meals for dinner. When I left, Kevin was wobbling about on the lift, tidying his area. He called to me, "Hey there. Stop." I pretended I didn't notice, not wanting to become involved in a lengthy discussion of the outer dimension we call the Twilight Zone. He called twice more, raising his voice to a level I could not ignore. He just wanted to wish "Miss Lady" and nice weekend. How does one keep track of weekends when days and nights roll into a perpetual ball of hunger, thirst, addiction, collecting and sleep?
You have a nice weekend too.
Doug was extremely proud to tell me that all we had to do was sack the meat sandwiches—that took 10 minutes. Lunch was in the oven and among the donations in the walk-in fridge. There were massive amounts of aluminum baking pans filled with restaurant donations in that fridge, in the walk-in freezer and in the wide, lighted wall fridge—meals, was far as the taste buds could imagine. Too far.
The lunch bunch numbered about 10, and some had the gall to come as much as 90 minutes late, but everyone was pleasant. After that, Doug spent some time helping the gatekeeper with a man who made her nervous… and then a woman came in who was feeling suicidal. They gave her a sack lunch, but very soon she was hauled off by the EMTs. The shelter foyer receives many visitors from the streets—the saddest in winter.
Doug and I plated 37 meals for dinner. When I left, Kevin was wobbling about on the lift, tidying his area. He called to me, "Hey there. Stop." I pretended I didn't notice, not wanting to become involved in a lengthy discussion of the outer dimension we call the Twilight Zone. He called twice more, raising his voice to a level I could not ignore. He just wanted to wish "Miss Lady" and nice weekend. How does one keep track of weekends when days and nights roll into a perpetual ball of hunger, thirst, addiction, collecting and sleep?
You have a nice weekend too.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
TOO MUCH AND TOO LITTLE
Minutes after I arrived, Doug got two phone calls and left me alone with barely a hello. He was waylaid long enough for me to make 40 PBJs and sack them with drinks, chips and a napkin. THEN I was let in on the conversations. Doug's new boss asked him to be the gatekeeper and the cook today. That is a stretch because the "gate" and the kitchen are at opposite sides of the building. Richard, our usual gatekeeper, had been there all night and until late this morning, so the boss told Richard to go downstairs and sleep because he'll be keeping that gate again tonight. Furthermore, Major God had called to ask Doug to provide lunch for his whole church congregation.
We did have an abundance of donations, with more on the way. So Doug put two large pans of fried chicken in the oven, a large pan of asparagus in the steamer, and potato salad on the prep table. As time passed, and the food was not collected, Doug was told that Major's wife was going to pick it up, but a lady had asked Wife to pray with her… and they were still taking care of that.
When I left at 2:00, the foods had not been collected and church was long-since over. No one called to change the plan or to apologize; nor will he ever.
For lunch we served BBQ, coleslaw and baked beans to a modest crowd, including two fellows from the hotel across the street. Doug was gone about half the time, checking on the gate.
Kevin's area was clean when I arrived, and I only saw him briefly when he came to the back door for a drink. (I still think something's wrong with his legs; God only knows.)
By 1:00, Doug's boss had come to relieve him of the gate, and we cleaned the kitchen for the night.
The Hostile One checked herself out of the shelter; we're all glad to be relieved of her issues. Those who came to lunch were calm and quiet. Doug said they didn't like the food. Maybe he was right. It was eastern barbecue, and not recognizing that, Doug had dumped red barbecue sauce in it. No, I didn't give that a taste test.
Tonight's dinner plates were filled with Salisbury steak 'n gravy, mac 'n cheese, Brussels sprouts with carrots, and a roll. The pantry, the freezer, the walk-in fridge and the big wall fridge are overflowing with donations, as are boxes stacked in the pantry and other places where they block our paths. I couldn't even step into the walk-in fridge…
There was no joie de vivre in the kitchen today, as The Powers had left a pall on the place from the start of our morning. I suppose we can make up for it next week.
I had to ask Doug to see me to my car this afternoon because a stranger with an expensive bicycle was rummaging through our dumpster. Doug just approaches scary situations with, "Hey, Buddy, can we help you?" Nope. Buddy and his bike scurried away.
We did have an abundance of donations, with more on the way. So Doug put two large pans of fried chicken in the oven, a large pan of asparagus in the steamer, and potato salad on the prep table. As time passed, and the food was not collected, Doug was told that Major's wife was going to pick it up, but a lady had asked Wife to pray with her… and they were still taking care of that.
When I left at 2:00, the foods had not been collected and church was long-since over. No one called to change the plan or to apologize; nor will he ever.
For lunch we served BBQ, coleslaw and baked beans to a modest crowd, including two fellows from the hotel across the street. Doug was gone about half the time, checking on the gate.
Kevin's area was clean when I arrived, and I only saw him briefly when he came to the back door for a drink. (I still think something's wrong with his legs; God only knows.)
By 1:00, Doug's boss had come to relieve him of the gate, and we cleaned the kitchen for the night.
The Hostile One checked herself out of the shelter; we're all glad to be relieved of her issues. Those who came to lunch were calm and quiet. Doug said they didn't like the food. Maybe he was right. It was eastern barbecue, and not recognizing that, Doug had dumped red barbecue sauce in it. No, I didn't give that a taste test.
Tonight's dinner plates were filled with Salisbury steak 'n gravy, mac 'n cheese, Brussels sprouts with carrots, and a roll. The pantry, the freezer, the walk-in fridge and the big wall fridge are overflowing with donations, as are boxes stacked in the pantry and other places where they block our paths. I couldn't even step into the walk-in fridge…
There was no joie de vivre in the kitchen today, as The Powers had left a pall on the place from the start of our morning. I suppose we can make up for it next week.
I had to ask Doug to see me to my car this afternoon because a stranger with an expensive bicycle was rummaging through our dumpster. Doug just approaches scary situations with, "Hey, Buddy, can we help you?" Nope. Buddy and his bike scurried away.
Friday, August 2, 2019
NEVER A DULL MOMENT
It's Doug's birthday! He got two cakes and sundry other goodies in recognition of the occasion, and we celebrated until 3 o'clock! It was not a dull day.
My morning began at the back steps, where Kevin's litter was front and center. Doug met me in the kitchen with the announcement that he'd had it out yesterday with "Major God 'n 'em" about the massive amounts of donations we're receiving. Later, when two of the office workers came to discuss the issue, I asked them outright, "Exactly who is going to hell if we just say 'No, thank you?'" Their response was amazingly comprehensive. I surely wish Major God had been there for my question!
Around mid-morning, Kevin brought a copy of Animal Farm to the back door and told Doug, "Give this to Miss Lady; I know she reads." Poor Kevin. Doug tried to hand it to me, but I refused to touch it. Later he brought another book and said, "You take it; you got gloves on." No sale.
I don't know what keeps Kevin alive, though there are surely hundreds of thousands of humans in the Third World who live in poorer conditions. Kevin was eating foods we'd thrown in the dumpster and sharing them with flies. He tried twice to pay me with rocks today, but I begged off with "save them for me on Sunday! Okay?"
We had donated chicken pot pie for lunch, and when that ran out, the latecomers got sack lunches. The Hostile One from last Sunday arrived late and was most angry that we'd run out of pot pie. She claims that her bright red hair (cut harshly short) is her excuse for "attitude." She refused a sack lunch and sat down with the mother of the autistic boy—the woman who sometimes wears her teeth. That woman may be an addict, but she's no dummy; within a very few minutes, she had calmed down the Hostile One and was telling us not to worry, she had it covered. She did.
Autistic Kid took one look at the pot pie and said, "I don't like that." I took a lesson from his mother and told him he needed to try it and that if he still didn't like it, he didn't have to eat it. Of course, he ate it all.
Later, Office Worker was telling us that Hostile One's room was being searched and cleaned of many foods and drinks (like all that she took from the dining room last Sunday). No, she wasn't giving it to the people out front. She appears horribly addicted, with her edgy attitude, shaking legs and missing teeth… and she's treading on thin ice with the staff.
There's another new resident, very thin and very tall. He just got out of prison and says he never wants to go there again! All I could do was offer him sustenance, an encouraging word and a thumbs up.
Doug and Shirt Man spent about an hour hashing out the downside of donations: Some things are rotten, some are molded, and why does "that woman" keep bringing us her rotten apples? Imagine a sealed box of mini muffins with a resident fly inside. Imagine a dozen banana boxes full of apples, plums, lemons, and bananas! There simply aren't enough people in that little shelter to eat such an abundance of food--not to mention the cooked meals in aluminum pans--dozens of them.
Kevin followed me to my car when I left, trying to give me a handful of rocks. I do feel a bit guilty begging off, but I left him with the promise of accepting them on Sunday, hoping fervently that he will not remember. After all, he'd spent the afternoon talking enthusiastically with an imaginary friend or simply to himself. I do it all the time.
 |
| Welcome! |
 |
"Hey, Buddy… you think you can clean up your stuff right away?
Major God is coming, and we need to have it clean."
|
I don't know what keeps Kevin alive, though there are surely hundreds of thousands of humans in the Third World who live in poorer conditions. Kevin was eating foods we'd thrown in the dumpster and sharing them with flies. He tried twice to pay me with rocks today, but I begged off with "save them for me on Sunday! Okay?"
 |
Have you tried this hemp water?
|
Autistic Kid took one look at the pot pie and said, "I don't like that." I took a lesson from his mother and told him he needed to try it and that if he still didn't like it, he didn't have to eat it. Of course, he ate it all.
Later, Office Worker was telling us that Hostile One's room was being searched and cleaned of many foods and drinks (like all that she took from the dining room last Sunday). No, she wasn't giving it to the people out front. She appears horribly addicted, with her edgy attitude, shaking legs and missing teeth… and she's treading on thin ice with the staff.
There's another new resident, very thin and very tall. He just got out of prison and says he never wants to go there again! All I could do was offer him sustenance, an encouraging word and a thumbs up.
Doug and Shirt Man spent about an hour hashing out the downside of donations: Some things are rotten, some are molded, and why does "that woman" keep bringing us her rotten apples? Imagine a sealed box of mini muffins with a resident fly inside. Imagine a dozen banana boxes full of apples, plums, lemons, and bananas! There simply aren't enough people in that little shelter to eat such an abundance of food--not to mention the cooked meals in aluminum pans--dozens of them.
 |
They come in the front door, are scavenged for salvage,
then tossed out the back. Sad but necessary.
|
 |
Ready-to-eat dishes, chef designed, carefully dated,
and much too much. (The walk-in fridge is full.)
|
Sunday, July 28, 2019
HAVE MERCY!
Arrived at 10, got home at 3—my feet are sore, but my heart is high—we had tons of fun today!
One of the office workers and her husband were blocking my parking area when I arrived. She said, "We're fixing the gate for Major God." Anyway, her husband moved his truck so I could park, and I headed for the back stairs where I first got a glimpse of Kevin. "Hey, Kevin!" I hollered.
"Hey, Miss Lady," he answered, continuing with his usual long string of disjointed conversation. I did understand him to say he'd been robbed and all his rocks were stolen. (No doubt Doug and I are guilty, but not confessing.)
Kevin's mess was strewn on the steps, and he had a friend there too. It was a challenge, but I managed to step around the fellows and their belongings. Thankfully, Doug was quick to open the door for me. Kevin is downright dirty today. His hands and fingernails are black! I'm just not accustomed to seeing him so very dirty. At one point during our numerous encounters, I saw his young friend offer him some deodorant. That was a first!
Doug and I spent our first hour sacking PBJs and meat-sandwich lunches...while he vented heavily about the office lady "intruding" on his day alone there. Apparently, he feels a lot of pressure when the office folks are around; the place has regulations, and while they are written in stone but seldom followed… it's just that they exist. Kinda puts a body on edge. NOT that we were breaking any regulations!
There are tons of donated foods in the coolers. Doug was very late deciding what to serve for lunch, and that put him in a tizzy, but once his plan was on the stove, he calmed down. We had donated fried chicken, cornbread muffins and fresh sliced fruits. I boiled 2 dozen eggs, and we heated pinto beans. The food was well received.
Our residents are beginning to show change, and their number has increased. No youth today, and Fancy Lady was also missing; however, a friend of hers (new to me and just eat up with rheumatoid arthritis) came to the counter to ask if I might save some boiled eggs for Fancy. She has asked for those, you know. So I gave a bag of four eggs to Gatekeeper to save for Fancy.
Gatekeeper is still with us, still calm and just riding easy in that saddle. We might get to keep him for awhile. That would be lovely. He reminds me of a cousin; let's call him Richard.
Our "little old lady" who is toothless came to ask for a special favor, and that was the high point of my day. "Can you get me a Dr. Pepper? It's got prune juice in it, and it does right by me. If I mix it with a cup of coffee, I'm good."
I assured her that I had a good understanding of her need and fetched her a 12-ounce bottle with a screw-on cap, so she could save some for later. We even whispered about the rules of taking food and drinks from the dining room and how she'd need to hide that. She assured me she didn't want any roaches(!) in her room, so she had a plan already in place. If only you could see this wee person whose eyes sparkle with life as a child's—her consistent cheer, her refusal to acknowledge any rigors of homelessness.
All three of the young folks from the hotel across the street came for a lunch plate. It appears that their boss and one of the others may still work there, but the third one is just hanging out with his buds. They're behaving themselves, and prison may have done them some good. The kitchen was crowded for awhile, but they are good company.
When lunch was over at 12:30, Doug and I were cleaning and working toward filling the dinner plates, but we had a number of interruptions. Kevin pounded on the back door to ask for ice and drink. He also wanted a sack lunch for his friend on the steps. I gave the guys plenty of ice, food and drinks and returned to cleaning. Around 1:00, our young gal with the service dog came through the dining-room door in a housecoat, looking for all the world like a sick child who needed her mommy.
I cannot get in too deeply with their personal issues, so I simply gave her the foods she wanted. We had not yet dispensed with the leftovers. She was very picky—two of these, only one of those, none of that. She gave some of the foods a nauseous look, but seemed purely hungry for others. I didn't question her, but we don't pamper folks like that as a rule. Before I could turn around, I noticed that the girl and her foods had disappeared! My mistake.
Another knock at the door revealed a thin young woman who wanted a sack lunch and a drink. She smiled warmly and thanked me. But, you know, she might be the next one with a slit throat… Where is the answer to this homeless, drug-addicted problem?
After that, Doug cleaned up the serving counter and threw away what little was left, though he'd kept two plates in the warming oven. Then a fellow came in from a long morning at church, and he wanted one of the plates plus a sack lunch! He said he certainly could eat that much food because he's hypoglycemic (needs protein and no sugar). He ate everything, then returned to ask for sweets. I morphed into his mother and gave him some gum. No cookies for you! He left happy.
Then we had yet another late arrival—a most unusual young person we call "she/her" who is new there and who has not shown evidence of good manners. She questioned me at length and with a poor attitude about why we didn't have any lunch left. I gave her a sack lunch, she loaded her arms with FOUR soft drinks and walked out, right in front of me and Richard, while we raised our voices telling her that was forbidden!
Someone said she takes drinks and food to "the people out front."
Still, Doug and I needed to plate dinner, but Kevin got in the picture again. Kevin is as drunk as a skunk today, and Doug spent at least 10 minutes gently reprimanding him and extracting promises of better behavior. Kevin gave Doug a fist bump, and they shook hands. I got my hand sanitizer and stood by, but that dressing down took a lot longer than I expected.
I grabbed an opportunity to speak with Kevin's friend. He's a handsome young man who is clear-eyed and healthy. I told him that he was obviously sober and able to do better than hang around with Kevin. I told him he needs to get his life in order and get a place of his own. "He's had a place of his own!" Kevin said, perhaps proudly. The young man agreed with me. I hope he understood that I believe he can do better; I believe he can overcome whatever thing has brought him to these back stairs with Kevin. I believe in him. It's all I can do.
Finally, Doug and I plated the foods he'd had warming all morning: sweet potatoes, ham, corn and a biscuit on each of 38 plates. I could not believe it was well after 2 o'clock before I could take off my apron. What a full, full day.
One of the office workers and her husband were blocking my parking area when I arrived. She said, "We're fixing the gate for Major God." Anyway, her husband moved his truck so I could park, and I headed for the back stairs where I first got a glimpse of Kevin. "Hey, Kevin!" I hollered.
"Hey, Miss Lady," he answered, continuing with his usual long string of disjointed conversation. I did understand him to say he'd been robbed and all his rocks were stolen. (No doubt Doug and I are guilty, but not confessing.)
Kevin's mess was strewn on the steps, and he had a friend there too. It was a challenge, but I managed to step around the fellows and their belongings. Thankfully, Doug was quick to open the door for me. Kevin is downright dirty today. His hands and fingernails are black! I'm just not accustomed to seeing him so very dirty. At one point during our numerous encounters, I saw his young friend offer him some deodorant. That was a first!
Doug and I spent our first hour sacking PBJs and meat-sandwich lunches...while he vented heavily about the office lady "intruding" on his day alone there. Apparently, he feels a lot of pressure when the office folks are around; the place has regulations, and while they are written in stone but seldom followed… it's just that they exist. Kinda puts a body on edge. NOT that we were breaking any regulations!
There are tons of donated foods in the coolers. Doug was very late deciding what to serve for lunch, and that put him in a tizzy, but once his plan was on the stove, he calmed down. We had donated fried chicken, cornbread muffins and fresh sliced fruits. I boiled 2 dozen eggs, and we heated pinto beans. The food was well received.
Our residents are beginning to show change, and their number has increased. No youth today, and Fancy Lady was also missing; however, a friend of hers (new to me and just eat up with rheumatoid arthritis) came to the counter to ask if I might save some boiled eggs for Fancy. She has asked for those, you know. So I gave a bag of four eggs to Gatekeeper to save for Fancy.
Gatekeeper is still with us, still calm and just riding easy in that saddle. We might get to keep him for awhile. That would be lovely. He reminds me of a cousin; let's call him Richard.
Our "little old lady" who is toothless came to ask for a special favor, and that was the high point of my day. "Can you get me a Dr. Pepper? It's got prune juice in it, and it does right by me. If I mix it with a cup of coffee, I'm good."
I assured her that I had a good understanding of her need and fetched her a 12-ounce bottle with a screw-on cap, so she could save some for later. We even whispered about the rules of taking food and drinks from the dining room and how she'd need to hide that. She assured me she didn't want any roaches(!) in her room, so she had a plan already in place. If only you could see this wee person whose eyes sparkle with life as a child's—her consistent cheer, her refusal to acknowledge any rigors of homelessness.
All three of the young folks from the hotel across the street came for a lunch plate. It appears that their boss and one of the others may still work there, but the third one is just hanging out with his buds. They're behaving themselves, and prison may have done them some good. The kitchen was crowded for awhile, but they are good company.
When lunch was over at 12:30, Doug and I were cleaning and working toward filling the dinner plates, but we had a number of interruptions. Kevin pounded on the back door to ask for ice and drink. He also wanted a sack lunch for his friend on the steps. I gave the guys plenty of ice, food and drinks and returned to cleaning. Around 1:00, our young gal with the service dog came through the dining-room door in a housecoat, looking for all the world like a sick child who needed her mommy.
I cannot get in too deeply with their personal issues, so I simply gave her the foods she wanted. We had not yet dispensed with the leftovers. She was very picky—two of these, only one of those, none of that. She gave some of the foods a nauseous look, but seemed purely hungry for others. I didn't question her, but we don't pamper folks like that as a rule. Before I could turn around, I noticed that the girl and her foods had disappeared! My mistake.
Another knock at the door revealed a thin young woman who wanted a sack lunch and a drink. She smiled warmly and thanked me. But, you know, she might be the next one with a slit throat… Where is the answer to this homeless, drug-addicted problem?
After that, Doug cleaned up the serving counter and threw away what little was left, though he'd kept two plates in the warming oven. Then a fellow came in from a long morning at church, and he wanted one of the plates plus a sack lunch! He said he certainly could eat that much food because he's hypoglycemic (needs protein and no sugar). He ate everything, then returned to ask for sweets. I morphed into his mother and gave him some gum. No cookies for you! He left happy.
Then we had yet another late arrival—a most unusual young person we call "she/her" who is new there and who has not shown evidence of good manners. She questioned me at length and with a poor attitude about why we didn't have any lunch left. I gave her a sack lunch, she loaded her arms with FOUR soft drinks and walked out, right in front of me and Richard, while we raised our voices telling her that was forbidden!
Someone said she takes drinks and food to "the people out front."
Still, Doug and I needed to plate dinner, but Kevin got in the picture again. Kevin is as drunk as a skunk today, and Doug spent at least 10 minutes gently reprimanding him and extracting promises of better behavior. Kevin gave Doug a fist bump, and they shook hands. I got my hand sanitizer and stood by, but that dressing down took a lot longer than I expected.
I grabbed an opportunity to speak with Kevin's friend. He's a handsome young man who is clear-eyed and healthy. I told him that he was obviously sober and able to do better than hang around with Kevin. I told him he needs to get his life in order and get a place of his own. "He's had a place of his own!" Kevin said, perhaps proudly. The young man agreed with me. I hope he understood that I believe he can do better; I believe he can overcome whatever thing has brought him to these back stairs with Kevin. I believe in him. It's all I can do.
Finally, Doug and I plated the foods he'd had warming all morning: sweet potatoes, ham, corn and a biscuit on each of 38 plates. I could not believe it was well after 2 o'clock before I could take off my apron. What a full, full day.
Friday, July 26, 2019
THE CLEANING LADY
Today, I helped Doug clean Kevin's "apartment." Kevin is again in the care of our law-enforcement department, so we know he has a bed and decent food; en plus, he isn't out there on the streets with all the other nutcases.
I thought cleaning Kevin's place would be a very hard job for Doug, but before I could turn around, he was finished. He had loaded a plastic bin with some of Kevin's belongings, heaved it into the dumpster, and shoved the remaining items underneath the stairs. Then he arranged the dozens of drink crates in Kevin's sleeping space, and all was right again…
There remained only the issue of Kevin's litter (mostly rocks) on the stairs. I got a broom and went after it, behind the broken lift motor and in all the cracks and crevices. We look much better now, unless the health department inspects Kevin's "closet."
There was great need of organization in the kitchen and pantry. Boxes were empty or overflowing, and many were out of place. The housekeeper in me enjoyed the challenge.
Lunch saw six diners, some of whom were more hungry for socialization than sandwiches. It was longer than usual before Doug and I had our privacy restored. Then we set about filling 36 dinner plates with donated eye of round with gravy, cornbread dressing, and glazed carrots. It was so divine that before 11:30 we had tested it.
In early afternoon our phone rang. Doug checked the caller I.D. and asked me to take the call. A woman who assumed I knew her wanted to know if we wanted some donated foods. Doug's expression had said we were overloaded with those, so I told the woman we really had plenty at this time. She was chatty and obviously desperate. Eventually I told her that we might be able to use just a small amount and how very, very much we appreciate her/them/those. So that's where we left it. I hate lying, but while we surely do appreciate donations, sometimes they take over the place—like rabbits.
—See you Sunday
I thought cleaning Kevin's place would be a very hard job for Doug, but before I could turn around, he was finished. He had loaded a plastic bin with some of Kevin's belongings, heaved it into the dumpster, and shoved the remaining items underneath the stairs. Then he arranged the dozens of drink crates in Kevin's sleeping space, and all was right again…
There remained only the issue of Kevin's litter (mostly rocks) on the stairs. I got a broom and went after it, behind the broken lift motor and in all the cracks and crevices. We look much better now, unless the health department inspects Kevin's "closet."
There was great need of organization in the kitchen and pantry. Boxes were empty or overflowing, and many were out of place. The housekeeper in me enjoyed the challenge.
Lunch saw six diners, some of whom were more hungry for socialization than sandwiches. It was longer than usual before Doug and I had our privacy restored. Then we set about filling 36 dinner plates with donated eye of round with gravy, cornbread dressing, and glazed carrots. It was so divine that before 11:30 we had tested it.
In early afternoon our phone rang. Doug checked the caller I.D. and asked me to take the call. A woman who assumed I knew her wanted to know if we wanted some donated foods. Doug's expression had said we were overloaded with those, so I told the woman we really had plenty at this time. She was chatty and obviously desperate. Eventually I told her that we might be able to use just a small amount and how very, very much we appreciate her/them/those. So that's where we left it. I hate lying, but while we surely do appreciate donations, sometimes they take over the place—like rabbits.
—See you Sunday
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