WHERE DOES IT HURT?

     Cutie gatekeeper let me in with a big smile. He phoned the kitchen, so Joey would open the door there. I unloaded my bags, put on an apron, washed my hands and set to work. But first, I asked Joey to play a CD I'd brought. I have a new song—and we danced and sang until my feet gave out. Nothing like good music to start the day.
       Today I made quiche. It's been months, and maybe Miss Lillian has forgiven me… so I dared to try it again. This time I made only 7 (God forbid there should be one left over and she should have to "find a use for it"). Joey deep fried the most delicious bacon, and he pan fried several pounds of sausage. I got white and yellow grated cheeses from the fridge, and I had taken the pie shells and sour cream. Our work table isn't big enough for this effort, but I made do.
       Joey had a big can of green beans boiling, but it was not enough, so I added another. The canned fruit that he'd promised to order just didn't happen. He did have a large can of applesauce, and I found a tiny can of pineapple slices, and some cinnamon. When lunch was completely over, we had 4 or 5 plates left (which were probably eaten by late-comers), and there was not one green bean or one dab of applesauce left. It was a case of "perfect will just have to do." [Phil]
       The first batch of pies was ready right on time for the pre-release. There were only 5 or 6 of them and, predictably, they had minor complaints. One of the guys in particular made a point of telling me, kindly, that he's never liked eggs. I understand that. I told him that if he couldn't eat the quiche, I'd make him something else. Quite a few sentences passed between us, and after lunch he made a point of telling me that lunch was very good and he appreciated my making it. I cannot give him a love of eggs, but his love of human kindness surely bubbled to the surface.
       Our homeless, on the other hand, had no qualms about eating quiche. Their biggest challenge was choosing between cheese, sausage, bacon, and sausage/bacon. When I took the toys into the dining room for the children, a young woman looked up from her plate and asked softly, "Can we have more?"
       "Yes! But only when I'm here…" Five of them had an extra plate. And you know… there are no obese people in our group at present—just hungry people.
       We have a new mom with two boys (about 8 and 10), so it was nice to have kids old enough to use some of my art kits.
       When the first wave of diners had passed, a handsome young man came to the counter asking, "Quiche?"
       "Oui."
       "Quiche???"
       "Oui!"
       Then he got it. Big smile. Then he sidled closer, "How are you?" he asked.
       "I'm really tired; my back and legs hurt, but I'm here and I'm standing upright, so I've got nothing to complain about."
       "Me either," he said, "except I wish my mom wasn't so mad at me."
       I became a bartender in that moment, wiping the bar while he sipped his drink and poured out his troubles. Before I left, I took him aside, "I have a son. When a mother's child hurts, she can feel no greater pain. Your mother sees you hurting and she cannot fix it, so she's angry and feeling helpless about that."
       "Yes, but I just want her to speak nice to me," he whined. "I can't fix this. Only God can fix this, and only on His time."
       There was little else I could say—but I encouraged him to write to his mother with kind words, and let the other stuff go.
       The lady with 4 boys wasn't there today. I'll be honest, just seeing her spitting out all those babies (with another on the way) annoys me awfully, so I did not miss her. The 2-year-old girl and her mother are gone now. The child was smiling much more openly in the last few weeks. The couple with the newborn and 5-year-old remain. The infant is becoming chubby and smiling profusely. Everyone at the shelter is abuzz about how much the baby has smiled this week. The 5-year-old is absolutely my favorite (Joey's too)—and I had fun giving him a Beanie bat in honor of Halloween's approach. The 6-year-old girl (go ahead and shoot me, but this child IS "Honey Boo Boo"). She has no manners. She is overweight and rude. The upside is that she gives me an opportunity to practice being kind but firm.
       Mr. Huggy arrived at his usual time, and I had a plate for him. I was so ready to ward off a painful hug, but he just stood very close to me. Body language is universal, isn't it? But he's feeling less weak now and is taking the time to rest when his energy runs low. I gave him a very brief talk about "delegating."
       Joey and I have no plans for next week. He'd like for me to conjure up some, but I had to tell him, "If I asked for something, it wouldn't be here—you know it wouldn't." He agreed. So unless we plan a menu for which I personally shop, and one that uses staples always available at the shelter, planning can be fruitless—or just cinnamon-laced applesauce.
     
     

LOAVES, FISHES & FAREWELL

       The new gatekeeper has come to know me, and I him. He smiled endearingly when he let me in, and I noticed that he has my son's coloring. "Joey's not here yet—just gone missing," he said, but the kitchen was unlocked and I assured him I had come to a cold kitchen before.
       I still don't know how to turn on all the lights, but today I managed to find a couple. Checking the walk-in fridge, there was nothing that was obviously intended for lunch. So I attacked the mystery box and some shelves to find the makings for you-know-what. There was more than enough, and within about 20 minutes, I had a big pot on to simmer.
       Then I got a 5-pound sack of flour and began making biscuits. Today, I took cookie cutters to make duckies, hands, feet, moons and stars. Joey came in as I was mixing the first batch of dough. He'd overslept and missed his ride—and it's a 3-mile hike from his house. I don't envy the child. At first, I thought perhaps he was still hanging out with those bad influences from last week, but he assured me that that was over. Then he proudly informed me that he'd read a book! And he told me all about it! He said there was a quiz and he knew the answers, like "what a surprise!"
       Shortly before the pre-release were to come in, I asked Joey what could we serve "on the side." It seemed like soup and biscuits needed a side—especially fruit. There was no fruit. However, I found a small can of applesauce, a small can of pineapple slices, and 8 single-serving fruit cups (with sprinkle-on granola & cinnamon). I mixed all of those things in a big bowl and dished up a single spoonful on every other plate. We had some packages of yogurt-covered cherries for the odd plates. No one complained.
       Two of Joey's neighborhood pals dropped in at the back door (separate visits) and distracted him long enough to annoy me.
       I got the skinny on a number of our residents, and you won't like it, but this is the state of affairs in homeless care: The lady with four boys is pregnant, and the young, schizophrenic pregnant woman has five children who live with various relatives.
       Our family with the newborn and 5-year-old were at lunch. MOM was holding the baby today, and she looks so pretty! I told her, "You look the best I've ever seen you! You look rested, and happy; besides, you're just so pretty!" Her husband beamed.
       I made my way through the dining room, handing out Beanie toys, bubbles, gum and crayons.
       As the homeless finished their meals and I began to clean up, I noticed that we had a small bowlful of fruit left over. I still can't understand how so little went so far.
       Before I left, Mr. Huggy came in and gave me a large hug, causing my cell phone to pinch my boob… but of course, he didn't know I had my phone there. He took a bowl of soup and a plate of biscuits home with him. He says he's still feeling weak… and I wonder if he'll ever feel strong again.
       As I was leaving, the 5-year-old asked me, "Where are you going?" I told him I was going home, that my shift was over, and that I really, really wanted to sit down! But it was so nice that he cared. Two of the other little ones yelled extra thank-yous in chorus as I opened the door to leave, and in the parking lot a young woman shouted, "Bye!"
       Farewell… You might notice that "A Vent of My Own" no longer comments here. He was my biggest fan, a brilliant man, and a steady voice in the wilderness of life. He went home on October 4th. I miss him.

     

ABBA DA!

       There's a bitter cold wind today—dark skies—and misting rain. Those are key elements in predicting the flow of homeless into a shelter. In fact, one could report the weather by counting heads.
       A number of our pre-release were visiting family, so their group was small, but the homeless crowd …crowded in. The woman with 4 boys had 3 of them at lunch. Her high-chair baby is growing so fast. He's no longer sitting placidly as events pass him by. No. When I handed out Beanies, that baby reached out and spoke to me, "ah! ah!" He hugged his critter to his chest, then looked back at me, smiling, "abba da!" In fact, all of that woman's boys have high-level language skills. I hope life gives them lots of rewarding opportunities to use them.
       No little girls today, but I left the promised dolly with the 6-year-old's father. The couple with the newborn and 5-year-old were there, and as always I really enjoyed my minute visit with the child. The infant grows noticeably from week to week, and remains ever in his father's arms.
       On the whole, the group was fairly seedy looking, but they were upbeat. I don't think they knew how cold the wind would blow in the next 2 hours… And, oddly, no one complained about the food—which I, personally, thought was a complete flop!
       Joey said he had some breaded fish to deep fry, but it was salmon and it was fishy! The rolls he baked were bland and dry. The buttered spinach we heated was good, as were the cubed potatoes (heavily buttered, salted and with coarse pepper). A few lucky folks got deep-fried chicken patties. We had at least two who are allergic to fish. Then there were leftover plates with pizza and chili, and someone had donated a pile of enchiladas labeled "fish," "jerk," "buff" (buffalo), and "chic." A lot of brave people ate their fill at lunch today.
        I made a dozen lunch sacks, and I got to introduce myself to the young fellow who is our Sunday gatekeeper at the moment—just adorable. Mr. Huggy is around, as Joey mentioned things they've been cooking together, but I left too early to see him.
       Poor Joey… he confessed to having had one or two margaritas this week, and trying to balance their effects with energy drinks. "Sweetheart," I told him, "those things are called uppers and downers. You need to sleep it all off and not do those again." I mentioned flushing his system with lots of water, and choosing a banana before the bad stuff. It's not his usual behavior—far from it—but two old friends have come around lately, and it's their usual behavior. I'm glad he has the confidence to share all of that with me. He appears to listen when I talk.
       As for school, new classes have started, and Joey has a new teacher. He likes her, and she's teaching him how to match subjects with verbs.
       Here's hoping the FOOD will be better next week. I guess it's time to make quiche again.

LOOKING HOMELESS

       Eight or ten folks were sitting in the foyer when I went in this morning. No gatekeeper in sight. We ALL wanted IN, and that's when I realized I'd left my phone in the car. So I fetched the phone and called in. "We need in," I said. In seconds a cute young man let us all in. I haven't had an opportunity to  introduce myself, but I've heard his voice on Saturday nights when I call to see how many children to prepare for. Pretty sure I like him.
       Joey was mopping and sweeping. He'd put a large sack of canned soups on the work table for me, and a bag of flour. He'd put two huge cans of fruit cocktail in the refrigerator.
       I selected from the cans he'd provided, then chose others from the mystery box until I thought the combination of flavors would make a decent soup… yes, soup… I don't want to hear about. Oh! And one man in the foyer said, "Last Sunday, all we had was leftovers!" I told him that was because I wasn't there.
       After the big pot of soup was put on to simmer, I started on the biscuits. Who knew? It takes 8 cups of flour, about 2 cups of milk, and a stick of margarine to make 50 biscuits. I took my own tools, and we had biscuits shaped like hearts, stars, moons, and little circles. One of our residents got a heart-shaped biscuit that was not smooth on top. I apologized that his heart was a bit crumpled looking, and he said that was okay—it would go well with his real one.
       Our pre-release numbered half a dozen. They were a lively group, and Joey spent a lot of time bantering with them. One fellow found a tiny piece of ham in the soup, and Joey was obliged to make him some fried fish… but the banter was long and of good nature. We've certainly seen the reverse of that!
       During that time, a man and a teenager came to offer the shelter an enormous trailer of potatoes! They'd given half the trailer's load to another kitchen nearby, but we could take only one box. You know how hard it is to get raw food peeled and cooked at our kitchen… But the man—he had on this t-shirt that said, "Don't GO to church! BE church." I loved it, and I told him so!
       Our homeless numbered about 30, and 6 or 8 or them didn't come in until the last minute. To my surprise, and not on gatekeeper's list when I called last night, we have a new 6-year-old girl and her mommy. I was not as prepared for her as I could have been, so when I gave the dolly I'd taken to the 2-year-old, the 6-year-old naturally wanted it! I gave her a very cuddly little bear, and told her that she had surprised me, but that I do have a dolly that I will bring to her next week. She seemed happy with that news and the crayons and gum I gave her. My 2-year-old did not smile, but she surely snatched up that baby doll and gave its curly, curly hair and its clothes a thorough going over. Ah, the magic of dolls.
       The lady with 4 boys didn't come to lunch today, but the family with the newborn and the 5-year-old boy did. He's such a polite, gentle child, and I love that his father is always holding the baby—the tiny baby who has not cried in my presence and who has grown considerably in the weeks he's been there. For him, I had a soft little giraffe with a rattle in it. For his brother I had a funny monkey, and he loved it.
       So the children were all pacified, and the two older ones were coloring together in the foyer when I left. But today was different. Today the homeless looked so homeless. They were cheerful and they enjoyed their meal, but something about them was "more" than usual. Generally, they seem "mostly okay," but not today. They are homeless. I need to stop wondering why the newborn's mother has never smiled, or why the 2-year-old's mother can be demanding and angry, or why a man might compare his heart to a hard, crumpled biscuit.

LIFE IS UNBELIEVABLY GOOD

       I called Joey on Saturday to talk about our Sunday lunch menu. He was thinking "soup," he said. I knew that.

       So I asked him what did he have in the pantry... in the big fridge... in the freezer... and he gave it a lot of thought. He wasn't AT the shelter at the time, but he was audibally walking through those places, while I held the phone to my ear.

       We concluded that having fish would be okay because it had been four days since that was last served, and Joey had cole slaw and mashed potatoes that were ready to serve. Another easy, easy menu!

       Then Joey told me that he had only ONE pre-release to come to lunch (on Saturday), and furthermore, there were only SIX in the whole shelter! If that weren't shocking enough, the "homeless residents" have dwindled to a paultry dozen or so for lunch! (Dinner has more takers, but lunch is where I go...)

       So I allowed as how my back could use a day of rest, and I could see no gain in spending 2 hours on my feet to feed a dozen folks, when Joey could do that with both hands tied behind his back. He agreed.

       I'll miss my people... but it's good to know that they have better places to be. That is SO good to know!

FOCUS CAN CHANGE...

       Today, I was focused on getting in and out of that kitchen by 12:15. I was meeting a friend for SHOPPING! Women need a little shopping sometimes, and working women are especially challenged to find the time. But my friend and I were determined.
       Joey and "Crusty Old Lady" were the first staff I saw at the shelter. Joey was yang-yanging to somebody about being stretched too thin this past week. Seems some group of 300 needed a cook and HE was volunteered (for pay, but still...). "Crusty" was just herself… crusty. I still like the old gal.
       Joey and I had planned a meal over the phone last night, and it came off like clockwork (nothing like a shopping plan to put perspective in a job). Joey deep fried chicken tenders and catfish (oh, but those were good! I made a huge pot of curly macaroni (added butter, mozzarella cheese, cheddar cheese, and chopped broccoli florets. Good stuff! Then I cut up some varied and colorful melons for a fruit serving.
       That was lunch… along with sandwich buns. I didn't hear ONE complaint! Even had time to put together 12 sack lunches. The C&W music was hopping. The kitchen was HOT (deep fryer).
       Nobody did anything "special" today except for the 2-year-old stone face. She had some sort of epiphany after I gave her a little bear. Something about the bear and the idea of feeding it catsup or throwing me a kiss tickled her funny bone. She smiled large and real. That split second was the high point of 2/1-2 hours in the kitchen. Worth every minute.
       None of the other kids came to lunch before I left at 12:15.
       So today was mostly for me. Even cooks need a little time off.

THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN…

       Last night was long. I had a nightmare around 3 a.m. when I got up to take ibuprofen for back pain. When I finally hauled my sorry self out of bed, it was after 9 a.m. and I was running late.
      Fall is here, the air is crisp, and many residents were sitting outside when I arrived at the shelter. It looked like we'd have a good group for lunch. "Crusty Old Gal" was keeping the gate and I put on my best smile for her, "What would you like for lunch?"
       I thought she'd suck up and say something nice. That is not her style. "Joey's making corned beef hash," she said vacantly.

       Because I had planned today's menu, her comment kinda put the fear of God in me… low expectations, high disappointments? Heck.

       When I entered the dining room, a man was eating at one of the tables. Joey was in the kitchen. I realize that sometimes people need to be fed "off schedule," so I didn't question the man's being there.

       Within minutes, a young woman came in the back door. Joey introduced her. Then he sent her to the dining room and provided her with a full meal. While she ate, he explained that she was his "only best friend" in the world. They grew up together. He wanted me to understand that she had a horrific childhood—brushing aside his own. This is the height of benevolence.

       Joey had already put two big aluminum pans of corned beef hash in the oven. He had some fruit cocktail in a pan, and more cans of fruit ready to add—peaches, pears… mystery-box goodies. When we talked about having a third item on the plates, we decided on biscuits. Joey put 3 dozen in the other oven. Lunch. How easy was that?

       Still, I had this feeling that my corned-beef-hash/poached egg recipe from last time needed some tweaking. So I took the hash out of the oven and put it in huge frying pans, until it had a bit of crisp here and there. Then I returned it to the aluminum pans, and used the catsup bottle to put hollows in the hash, dropping a raw egg into each hollow. Then I put the pans back in the oven… where I would watch those eggs carefully! No more rock-hard baked eggs for us!

       Crusty Lady "ordered" scrambled eggs to go with her hash, so she didn't get a baked egg… but after all was said and done, I think she might have regretted that. She did eat a hearty lunch and gave it high marks.

       Our pre-release group (as I predicted) was FIVE! A sixth fellow wandered in late, but my count was on-the-money for plates needed on the shelf at feeding time.

       There were no complaints. Our gluten-free gal is wonderfully gifted at turning up her nose (at the counter), but she most often changes her attitude after a meal. She can be helpful, cheerful, and thankful. On the whole, I like the girl a lot.

       Vegan heifer came in long enough to put the fear of God in Joey (he mentioned having to find food for her), but I never saw her. That doesn't mean she wasn't there.

       Our homeless residents numbered about 25. I know that only because I nervously count out the servings when I am putting their plates together. The fear of not having enough is always with me.

       Lady with four boys was there with ALL of her boys—the high-chair baby with a very snotty nose, and the 2-year-old announcing his arrival crying loudly. I put tradition aside and took him a Beanie Baby beaver right away. His mother didn't say anything, but I distinctly felt that she thought he should "straighten up!" without the comfort of a toy.

       You know, I'm still getting over a cold, and if that woman's baby has passed his cold to the 2-year-old, that little fellow has a sore throat today! God forbid, we should give our babies credit for their pain…

       Anyway, the poached-eggs/hash dish was a big hit. I saw empty plates going into the trash can. That's always a good sign.

       Today, I was ready for the smileless 2-year-old. I had two Beanie bunnies with floppy ears—a mommy-size one and an identical baby-size one. I pulled up a chair beside the princess. "I'm ready for you today, Girl Friend," I said, putting the mommy bunny on the table. "Mommy," I announced. She reached for it. I pulled it back. "Wait," I said.

       The child actually withdrew. Sometimes my brain films things, and I painfully watched in slow-mo as she withdrew. Then I put the bigger buggy on the table again, "Mommy."

       Before the child could respond, I put the little one in the arms of the bigger one, "Baby."

      I got a smile. It wouldn't make the Guinness book, but, Honey, it was a real smile.

       Mr. Huggy took a plate home (he's looking well).

       I hear that Brenda is doing well with the night shift.

       The little boy who was new last week is still there. Again, he caught me giving out goodies before I saw him, but thankfully I was just culling out the crier at the time. Besides, this "Very Polite Child" was late coming to lunch! He had on a pink dress shirt (his Sunday clothes), and he's such a beautiful child—especially (as was mine) in pink.

       Well… nothing to complain about. Numerous folks thanked us for the good lunch. All was quiet when I left—full tummies—long naps. Even the baby had slumped over in his high hair… Why can't I have him just long enough to comfort his cold and rock him to sleep?