INSULATING WITH FAT

       It's turned off COLD here—below freezing. Had to warm the car a good 10 minutes before heading out this morning. NOT complaining! The folks who came to lunch have no car to warm, no furnace issues (mine put a dent in my wallet this week), no wallet… and they have come in en masse, compared to our usual numbers. The shelter served 54 dinners last night!
       Joey gave me two #10 cans of corned beef hash. Researching the #10 can, I find that it contains 12 servings (we got 15+), and it weighs about 6-1/2 pounds. Try holding that with one hand while scooping it into a pan with the other! Even with Joey's help, by the time I browned four batches of hash in the super-large frying pan, my arms were exhausted. The rest of me was complaining too.
       The frying pan holds only half a can, and as each batch browned, Joey would scrape it into a large aluminum baking pan. We filled two baking pans, and I made 15 little nests in each one. I broke a raw egg into each nest and Joey put the pans in the ovens. Today's efforts demanded a lot more muscle than I have.
       Joey baked a big pan of sausages because he, personally, wanted a sausage biscuit. Then he baked the only 3 biscuits he had. He also put a huge pan of delicious ham in the oven—left over from Friday—and two #10 cans of spinach on to boil.
       As I watched our lunch menu develop, literally on the fly, I felt like we needed grits. No excuse for those, but when you're serving up that much fat and carbs, you might as well go big. So I cooked about a gallon of grits and added cheese and butter. People! That lunch was death on a plate!
       When I'd begun frying the hash, Joey had said despairingly that the pre-release wouldn't eat it. I told him they ate it before. He argued that this group wouldn't eat it. He was wrong.
       Imagine coming to lunch and finding your plate heaped with cheese grits, spinach, corned beef hash (with poached egg), two sausage patties, and baked ham. This was beyond a doubt the least healthy meal we've ever served and by far the most popular. One very young woman in the pre-release group was not shy about expressing her glee at the sight of those plates. We served about 8 folks in that group—4 had seconds.
       Our homeless numbered around 20-25. These "snow birds" are the saddest of the sad. They would not be at a shelter if the weather were such that they could sleep outdoors—or in whatever unheated place they generally abide. Bitty Baby and Brother are still at Grandmother's because it's too cold to take the children out to walk. Mom said the kids will remain there until she and Dad get out of the shelter. In fact, we had NO children today.
       ONE is still minding the door, no doubt waiting for a daytime replacement. He very much enjoyed partaking of the kitchen's offerings. I wish you could hear his PA-system announcements—such a funny man. He's working in a very serious place, but he never lets that kill his sense of humor. If ever such talents were needed, they are needed there!
       Mr. Huggy arrived after the church hour. I got a one-arm hug and gave him a plate to take home. He's exhausted from seasonal duties, and I reminded him to delegate, but he won't. You know how those people are—gotta be hands-on (no reference to his past endeavors).
       For dinner tonight, Joey has put two large pans of leftover turkey in the oven. A lot of turkey has been frozen, so for next Sunday, I offered to make Brunswick stew with it. Joey has a LIST of what to order, and really, I think the only thing he doesn't already have is lima beans... so we'll see.
       Many of our diners stopped to thank us before leaving. Fat IS festive!

COLD TURKEY

       I've been away—first to a business conference, and then to sit the grandkids while their parents traveled. Both events were a lot of fun, but on Sunday mornings, I missed the shelter and hoped they wouldn't forget me.
       ONE unlocked the door today! He was bundled up in hats and coats enough to give him a snowman appearance! I assumed the heat was off, but One was just cold. Bless his heart.
       Nothing has changed. The shelter is still sheltering, and Joey is still in the kitchen. Miss Lillian had instructed Joey to use up an oversupply of pancakes, so we had brunch for lunch. I scrambled 3 dozen eggs with two kinds of cheeses and some seasonings. Joey baked two large pans of sausage patties, and we served applesauce on the side. There were NO complaints.
       There were many new faces, and a few old ones. I was expecting to see mostly new faces, after a 3-week absence; and I was a bit lost in the kitchen—having to remind myself where things are. The same thing happened here at home. Is that "travel block" or "old age?"
       Joey had some news: One of my long-ago favorite pre-release fellows is back in the Big House. The last time he wrote to me, he had complained that living with his grandmother was hard because the "old crowd" was around. I never understand why people don't just LEAVE when things are that bad. Are there no services, no parole officer duties that can help such a person? The system just threw that boy right back in the briar patch.
       Joey's other news was about his school. He missed more than 5 days, so he lost this quarter. The next quarter starts in January, and he will go back. If he doesn't finish by December 2013, he will be required to begin the entire process from scratch, so he is motivated to finish. Let's all stand in Joey's corner.
       Our Bitty Baby and his Precious Brother were at Grandma's today, but I left some goodies with their mom and dad. We had two other little ones, brothers about 6 and 12. They were there before I traveled, and they seem no worse for the wear of living in a shelter. Joey says we also have sisters 16 and 20, but I didn't see them—or they looked older than that…
       We have a new vegan, but he eats eggs.
       The Thanksgiving turkeys are already coming out of the oven. I saw four hot ones on the counter this morning. There were a half dozen others in the raw-meat sink. They always make far too many turkeys, and serve it out for weeks. Ew. At least I don't volunteer for Turkey Day: the whole town is invited, and I think about 200 usually come! Of course, there are volunteers who specialize in Turkey Day. Big event. Newspaper article.
       A smoker called to me as I headed for my car, "Thanks for coming today!"
       "I enjoyed it!" I said.
       "Have a nice rest of your week," he continued.
       "Enjoy your Thanksgiving!" I replied.
       "You too!"

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!