…SO LITTLE TIME

       Here on Memorial Day weekend, I wore a leather jacket, gloves & scarf to the shelter this morning. Doesn't seem fair to drag winter out like this. In spite of my two heavy bags, none of the men milling around out front gave a thought to opening the first door for me. Take is everywhere; give is scarce. Cutie Gatekeeper unlocked the door, and our smiles warmed up the inner sanctum. Dean and his wife were rather quiet. Something was different, and I was never privy to exactly what that was, but I gave his wife a hug later and said I hoped she was okay.

       Our trans-gen gal, Leslie, was back! I was so excited to see her; we have the most fun!

       Dean put me to work on the soup, even giving me the key to the pantry so I could plunder the canned goods to my heart's content. Good soup—about 2 gallons—with the pot scraped clean when all was said and done.

       On the side, we served pizza, ham & cheese sandwiches & fruit. We served 40-some meals, not counting the 3rds and 4ths that our three massive people consumed. One of our enormous women took more than the normal "lunch hour" to finish eating. That woman "cannot drink" diet sodas. Every week it is the same, "I cannot drink diet; can I have something else?"

       We don't have many regular sodas because our donations are made up mostly of diet drinks. Today, I stood our ground! "We have milk and water." Leslie was closer to the woman and repeated my call, "We have milk and water." The woman chose milk—a large cup of it.

       By the way, I'll bet you didn't know that diet TEA will cause a drug test to come up positive, so we don't give the people diet tea.

       Only one of the little girls was at lunch, and she was dolled up with lipstick! Wish you could have seen her smile when I told her how much I liked it. She chose a Beanie bear and a little bag of candy & gum. The only other child was our bitty baby. Her mommy said to her, "Look! It's your Sunday toy!"

       I did not serve all the plates, nor did I have opportunity to spend much time with my people. Leslie picked up those duties when I left the serving area to begin work on some sack lunches. Soon she was commenting on how wonderful it was to interface with the people and what a great group we had. Sadly, I missed that—though I did not miss the little gentleman with the crutch who had three bowls of soup last Sunday. He made a special effort to get my attention and tell me he ate FOUR bowls today. Rumor had it that folks were asking about the soup yesterday. It's not magic, but when I see some of the greasy things they must endure, I understand their hunger for good, wholesome soup.

       My right leg is hurting awfully; the pain comes and goes. Dean followed me around the kitchen with rubber mats for me to stand on… and I thought I was there to take care of them.

       We had our CW music, and a CD that I took for Leslie. Her take on the songs that I chose for her was interesting. She's very open to new things, and I do love an open mind.

       Three hours, two lunch groups, and two dozen sack lunches into the pain and joy, I had to give it up. Otherwise, I'd still be there, making PBJs. We had a really warm, wonderful day which, by the time I left, also described the weather. Maybe something from the kitchen leaked outside…

THEY JUST KEEP COMING

      The incessant rain has let up long enough for folks to get outside, and outside they were this morning. Sadly, no one got up as I struggled with my heavy bags. Prince Charmings don't reside there very often. Lanyard Guy is back at the desk. Good to see him.

       Dean and his bride were hard at the dinner prep—ham, sweet-a-taters, and green beans. Miss Lillian had left the lunch menu written out:

Dean: chicken salad

Miss Joy: pot luck

       I had taken a large bowl of homemade spaghetti sauce with meat, so that made a great starter for the soup. We had fresh potatoes (and new knives!!!). All that bitching I did about knives did nothing. Dean comes along and mentions the need, and whammo—super-fabulous, extra-sharp, assorted knives. He got other stuff too! It's amazing!

       The soup pot got my sauce, a cup of refried beans, 4 huge spuds, frozen peas/carrots/corn, several large cans of chicken, a can of tomato sauce, a pint of green beans, a box of beef broth, 1/2 cup fresh celery, water, a cup of elbow macaroni, rave reviews, and scraped clean.

       One little old fellow with a crutch came to the counter for a third bowl.

       A handsome 50-something guy called me "Babe," and wanted a special soda. When he'd eaten, he complimented lunch and added, "Thanks, Babe." We were not amused.

       Children. Just when you think there's a lull, there isn't. Our regular little girl was there with her gargantuan parents. She was smiling today! And our two babies are gone, but we have a new baby and its big sister who is about 11. That child has "eye-roll attitude" all over her face! I feel so sorry for her! It's not enough that she's been reduced to living in a shelter, but her mother embarrasses her SO! No, her mother is not abnormal in any way that I can see… it's just this child's time of life. She refused to take any of the food, and stood her ground, calling her mother down for not answering my "room number?" question fast enough. So I stepped to the pantry and fetched a bright blue Beanie bird and a little bag of candies & gum. I held them out to the child, and she just stared at me. Then she looked at her mother. What to do?

       "Happy Sunday!" I said. And her mom said something cheerful and approving, so the child took the gifts and appropriately lit up with delight. Just made my day.

       Every time Dean's wife and I would try to put away the leftovers, another person would straggle in, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. And the extra-large fellow visited the counter several times. I did not want to give him the very last bowl of soup (and sure enough, we needed it for someone who'd had no lunch), so I offered him a ham sandwich, which pleased him.

       Still, stragglers came in, and in the end, we made several plates with just chicken salad, fruit and crackers. That soup was GONE!

       A dear man came to the counter on his way out and asked if I had made the soup, saying he liked it so much, and I hear stories about requests for "the soup" when I'm not there. It's a shame the residents are not given that kind of nutrition every day. The chicken salad had 35 mg of cholesterol per serving—prefab death in a plastic tub!

       To my disappointment, our transgender helper couldn't be with us today, but she's supposed to be there next week.

       Speaking of "not there," we never see Mr. Huggy anymore. Word has it that Miss Lillian gave him the BOOT about being in her kitchen! Works for me.

       Another day, another 50¢.

OH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING

      The sky is clear, the air is crisp, and numbers of folks were outside enjoying it when I arrived. One man called out, "There's my soup lady!" That horrible sanctuary I call the foyer was blessedly empty when Cutie Gatekeeper let me in.

       Dean and wife were busy with food prep, and within seconds our transgender helper arrived. Gotta tell you, this is a really dear person, and I find her to be conscientious, helpful, deeply caring, and having a great sense of the depths and ranges of feelings. We can talk.

       Dean ran the rice steamer most of the morning, so my ears are ringing, but we could still hear our music over the din. Windows and back door were wide open, spring flowing through—it's all good, as they say. In the oven were several big pans of pizza for lunch. I was instructed to make "the soup" to go with that, and there was mixed fruit to serve on the side. Everyone had all they could eat and a wholesome meal. Tonight they're getting corn, rice, and turkey with gravy.

       The new cook is still out with his broken foot. Reports have it that he'll remain out of commission for quite some time to come. Miss Lillian is thrilled with Dean's efforts in the kitchen, as he doesn't have a lot of leftovers, and he's very efficient. I dread the day when they take away his apron and leave him with only custodial duties. His heart is all over the kitchen.

       Our pre-release group numbered 13, and the homeless residents about 20. You'll be pleased to know that the 3-year-old girl and her mother have been placed in an apartment of their own again. I guess that's good; it's easy to imagine that the child is neglected even more with only her mom around. The bottle baby is still there, but didn't come to lunch, and the little girl with the immense parents actually smiled and cheerfully said, "Thank you!" to me today. I didn't give her a girly toy like last week, but opted for a more serious animal, and she actually played with it. Maybe the learning curve is all mine…

       As for the soup, Dean said that last week's leftover soup was all served out that afternoon when folks came in for a snack, asking if there was any left. They'll be pleased to know there was plenty left today—we cooked for 60, but served only half that, as a lot of folks were with family. Yep, days like this are few and far between—not a soul was in that wretched foyer when I left. God bless them all.

IT'S THE LORD…

      Can you believe it? Another drenching rain, bitter cold wind, streets filled with debris, and too many bags to carry in under an umbrella. One of the street dwellers was staying dry in the foyer and greeted me with, "There's a pretty lady!"

       "A wet lady," I corrected him. Cutie Gatekeeper let me in, and I found Dean and his wife abuzz in the kitchen. Before I could begin, Dean had to show me his complete dinner preparation (as always), and explain that lunch would be my soup, chicken salad, crackers, and fresh pineapple slices. He also shared the details of a meal he served yesterday and how well it was received. I cannot impress on you enough how much this man loves taking care of the people in the shelter. In fact, his ministrations are being returned; when he left the kitchen to catch up on his custodial duties, some of the residents were already cleaning for him.

       We were expecting 60 guests, so the soup pot was filled high. Topping our fresh pineapple slices were little cubes of flan that my friend kindly sent along today. A few folks wanted to know what flan is; one pre-release teased me repeatedly and finally said, "It's custard, right?" And two young women wanted extras—which they got. In fact, one of them took one look at it and said, "Is that flan?" She was so excited. Most of the others were clueless, and I do love introducing new foods to them.

       Our 9-year-old and her parents are still there. Because the other two girls have left, I am free to give this child extra goodies, so today I went to her table and gave her a large coloring chart (with stickers and colored pencils), a whole box of crayons, a little bag of candy and gum, and a gorgeous Beanie bear in one of those pinkish-purple colors that little girls love. She never opened her mouth. She did not smile. She just looked at me while her father urged her to say "thank you."

       I don't need a child to thank me. I want to see her happy, and the fact that her troubles are so large as to deny her from having happy disturbs me awfully. Also, her parents (according to Dean's best guess) weigh a collective 800 pounds and often use the child as an excuse to ask for more food or something special. They will even send her to the counter to ask. She's a beautiful child; to look at her you'd never know what her roots look like.

       Most of you will remember a toddler we had last year who never smiled. You may recall my report that the child's mother would put her in the crib, lock her in their room, and go to a meal by herself. Maybe you remember the one or two little smiles I eventually coaxed out of the child. She's a "big girl" now—about 3—but not much has changed, and as you've guessed, she's back.

       Our other two children are infants, one on formula and the other about 1 year. I am no longer pressed to find babies something to eat, and I haven't time anyway.

       Dean's wife and I were looking out the kitchen window at the gray skies and blowing rain. "What's with this weather?" I whined.

       "It's the Lord," she said, "and He was right upset this morning when our lights went out at 5 o'clock!"

       I was up at 5 o'clock too, but only to slug down some sinus headache meds, and I didn't crawl back out until after 9… so I wonder where this couple finds the strength to do all that they do.

       As I passed back through the lobby, the same man who'd greeted me earlier nodded toward the 9-year-old who was walking ahead of me, "That's yo sista, ain't it?"

       "Yes," I said, "Yes, she is."

MIXING IT UP

      Until today, I had not traveled to the shelter in a drenching downpour such as required an umbrella just to navigate the 20 feet from the car to the door. This miserable rain that set in yesterday continues with a vengeance and hammers on my sinuses. There were a half dozen men smoking under the eaves on the pre-release side, but no one offered to open a door for me, though my arms were full …

       Cutie Gatekeeper let me in. He was preoccupied with a young man who appeared to be asking for assistance, but we are not a "drop-in" shelter. Dean and his wife were busy in the kitchen, and lunch preparations were mostly a done deal. I was more than a little shocked to hear that we were serving the same hotdogs we had last Sunday, and that we'd served them yesterday (with no ill results).

       A pot of chili would be used to top those dogs, and a few baskets of deep-fried potato wedges would go on the side. That was the plan. I didn't like the plan very much, so I let Dean think he was giving me permission to make a pot of soup, and I talked him into letting me serve out a large container of fruit I found in the fridge. When all was said and done, we had four or five plates left over, and that's as close to perfect as it gets.

       I had plenty of time before lunch to make up a dozen PBJ sacks, but things were hectic when the groups came in because we had so many choices. "You can have hotdogs with chili, hotdogs without chili, fruit or no fruit, and/or a bowl of soup. The potato wedges were a given. One man ate four hotdogs with potatoes, soup, fruit, and then a whole fish-sandwich with sides meal from yesterday. He's keeping up his girth.

       Among the people I met today were a man who is becoming a woman, and a woman who seems to be a man. No, they're not together. The little girls who are sisters have moved out, but the other little girl is still there, as are two infants. Everybody got toys.

       On leaving, I passed through the foyer where six people were hunkered against the pain of life. I don't think they live there. Then I dashed through the rain, loaded my bags in the car, and backed out. That's when I saw the mother of one of the infants pushing her stroller out the door to take advantage of a long cigarette which was already between her lips. I do believe she would have done that even if there were not a few sheltered spots to stand on such a day as this.

       Call me when it's over. I have a headache.

SCRATCH WHERE IT ITCHES…

       A pre-release opened the inner sanctum for me—no gatekeeper in sight. Several guys were having coffee in the dining room, and the kitchen was dark… so I turned on the lights… and then Dean and his wife popped through the back door! The first thing Dean did was turn off the lights—not realizing they were on… so we began the morning with a laugh.

       Good news! A nearby church had a huge hot dog feast yesterday (with expensive beef dogs), and they brought their leftovers to us! We had hundreds of those gorgeous wieners, hundreds of fresh buns, and two huge aluminum pans of creamy coleslaw. The three of us "tested" the stuff—can't be too careful…

       With applesauce that we added, that was lunch, and we gave out seconds and thirds, with enough left over for tomorrow! Not only that, but we served as large a crowd as we've ever had. They were laughing too, so I passed Joey's wisdom on to Dean, "Joey said you can tell they like the food when they're laughing."

       We needed 14 sack lunches, to complete the 45-lunch refrigerator stash. I made those before serving time. We also needed 23 PBJ sacks, but it was 12:15 when we finished the two meals, and my feet were done. Dean and his wife can do the others. Lunch was easy and over, and dinner was in the oven—no sweat.

       We had a very interesting fellow among our homeless residents today. He's not young, or necessarily old; the only thing you can really ascertain is that he's been rode hard and put up wet. His jeans hung low, not out of a need to be fashionable, but just because. His hair was a mess. His teeth were here and there. But he had a keen interest in lunch—and seconds. His biggest problem was an itch. When he came to the counter, he kept pulling up his shirt and scratching his belly. In fact, he had to take care of that several times before he could reach for a plate… When he returned for more food, he was scratching all around his neck.

       By that time, Cutie Gatekeeper had made several appearances in the kitchen, and I had informed him of the "night theft" that's going on in there. Anyway, I called up to the front desk to inform him that "number 14" has a very suspicious itch. I've never seen anything like it.

       While we were serving that group, Dean left to take one of the pre-release to his job. I handed the young man a sack lunch and they went out. Soon, Dean returned to say his truck wouldn't start, so I gave him my car keys and sent them on their way… but not without giving him a perfunctory "eye," and adding, "it's new."

       When he came back, he was all smiles. "I like your ride! That little camera when you back up is really cool!" I didn't tell him that while it's cool, it's not the complete answer to backing up.

       None of the girls was there today, but all of their parents were. I gave the sisters' mom the special Beanies I've been saving for their last week (we think this is their last week), and I gave goodies to the other mom. Everybody was happy. Yes, Dean wanted some for his grandson too.

       Word reached Dean that "some lady" called yesterday to ask if they needed a Monday volunteer, so I think Miss Lillian might have help tomorrow. I got nothin' else—unless sore feet and a big smile count. Á bientôt!

MONDAY?

       The kitchen seems to be falling apart at the seams. All the work Dean and I did yesterday to put Miss Lillian ahead of the game today… that was not even remotely visible when the woman arrived this morning—or is it ever. I know because I went in to help her.

       Careful scrutiny brought me to the facts: when the day shift leaves, that kitchen's fare is fair game. All the candy baggies I carefully prepared for sack lunches yesterday were scarfed up last night during "snack time." All the PBJ and regular lunch sacks that were made up ahead—gone.

       Lillian had a fellow wrapping doughnuts for her, but he ran out of steam and returned to the group home early on. I made up 25 sack lunches and 25 PBJ sacks. She helped me stuff in the cookies and fold down the bag tops. My back was killing me after 2 hours on concrete. Call me stupid, but I forgot to stand on the rubber mat (which stays UNDER the prep table).

       If you know any of our history, you'll recall how "territorial" Lillian and I used to be. That has fallen by the wayside. We are in this thing together now. She even turns on the CW music just for me—after all, she says, the gospel station was "just talking."

       I wish I could be there more often. Then again, it surely wouldn't be long before they'd find a way to get shed of me too. I'm too outspoken. Hang tight, you hear?