FOILED AGAIN

       Doug's undies were wadded irretrievably UP when I arrived this morning. He'd taken Saturday off for a family event, and Miss Lillian and Dean had taken his place. Many things had been done wrong… not the least of which was 30 pounds of ground beef thawing in the big cooler, dripping bloody water in puddles in the floor.

       After listening to his rant for about an hour, including how he was QUITTING(!), I took him aside and pointed out that the people who are messing with his head are not as smart as he is and that they are doing things to get his goat. His best bet would be to keep a journal of activities, have his mole (gatekeeper) initial events in the journal, and pretend he isn't bothered.

       I felt like a teacher running interference between bullies and the smart kid on the play ground… and I had this very real fear that perhaps I would choose to not go there anymore…

       Time passed, lunch prep got underway, people came and went, and one phone call (from one of the antagonists) gave Doug a chance to blow off some steam. After that, he said, "I'm great! I gave them a piece of my mind, and I'm fine now."

       You know… I don't think of myself as a scorekeeper or a hall monitor or a mediator. I'd rather leave.

       Interestingly, the pre-release who mops for Doug (just because he's a nice guy) was SO excited to see that I'd brought sardines again (as I'd promised). The 2nd can was put out for the homeless group. The plate sat on the shelf, ignored, until that tall young Oriental fellow came in. He made haste in taking it. I asked him, "How  is   your   English   this   week?"

       Many attempted sentences later, we gave up. He is of good cheer, but I don't get the feeling that he's in an ESL class.

       Of our four kids (1, 9, 14, & 17), only the 14-yr-old was at lunch. I gave her the goodies for herself and her sister.

       My back/legs/feet were hurting a pretty good lick all morning, so when everyone had been served, I checked out. Who knows what any "next moment" will bring, but it seems especially worrisome when I wonder about "next Sunday."

LOOKING BACK

      Four years ago this Easter was the last time I set foot in an organized church—and truthfully, that one was pretty disorganized. I told myself that if leaving to work in a shelter on Sundays was the right thing to do, then I would know instinctively by my feelings. Because my feelings have not changed in 4 years, I'm calling it a win.

       All of the residents were upbeat today—just because it's Easter (even using the term without a deeper meaning). They are so hungry for change, for diversion, that simply being able to say, "Happy Easter!" elevates their mood.

       I took 6 dozen boiled and dyed eggs, some little foil-wrapped chocolate eggs, and 4-inch kabobs of cheeses & olives. We added those to Doug's delicious juicy hamburgers and baked beans. We provided heaps of sliced tomatoes and slices of cheese. We now have six or eight pre-release who won't eat beef or pork, so Doug made chicken & fish patties for their buns. Everybody was camping happy.

       The young woman from last week was there, and she is very much a can-do gal. Again, I was happy to let her help fill plates—we fed about 42.

       Doug said Miss Lillian had dropped by unexpectedly on Friday when he had the back door open. "What's this door doing open?" Lillian demanded.

       "I'm throwing boxes out," Doug replied.

       "Well, I need half a ham," she said. "And you need to feed out those hamburgers tomorrow; they're getting freezer burn."

       He cut her a half ham, and she left with her personal Easter meal. By that time, Doug was ready to walk out—forever. The nuances and the not-so-subtle interactions at that institution are enough to drive a normal person around the bend.

       Doug seems quite satisfied to have had one of his 5 days given to Lillian. Lillian, however (though "retired" and now back "part-time") wields a big stick and a lot of ownership there.

       As for the latest brouhaha with the pre-release, someone was caught smoking downstairs last week. Well… it was discovered that someone had been smoking there. No one, of course, would narc out the offender, so the gatekeeper in charge was pondering putting the whole gang on lock-down, but he didn't want the hassle. That issue has been rolled over to tomorrow when the Bureau of Prisons head shrew can take on the decision making.

       Only one child was at lunch, but I left her sister's goodie bag with their mom, and I left goodies for the 9-yr-old and the baby. They are there—just not at lunch.

       Next week we will have the chicken salad that we'd planned for this week… unless Lillian has another top-dog attack. Doug will be away next Saturday, and today's sweet volunteer allowed as how she could not help Lillian out on Saturday—nor will BOB—nor will I. Stepping into that woman's Gospel-screaming kitchen is more like an opportunity to be undone than saved. We do what we can with what we have; the rest we give up to God.

OFF THE CHAIN

       There was nothing on the stove when I arrived in the kitchen. Doug is always bustling about with his dinner preparations, but not today. Today he was chatting with the inmates and taking his time. He did have 3 or 4 turkeys in the oven for Miss Lillian to debone tomorrow, but no dinner prep.

       As for lunch, he said he was going to deep-fry corn dogs, chicken nuggets, and French fries. He had applesauce to serve on the side. He said he and I would make a bunch of PBJs… Then I asked him to take a picture of me in the apron my friend sent from Georgia.

      Pretty soon, a young woman came in (community service hours, I believe). She's just delightful, and Doug put her right to work on the PBJs. In the meantime, I whined about having no soup to make, until Doug took a big pot and set it on the stove with a "good luck" look in his eye.

       Again this week, a benevolent soul visited the mystery box. When the soup pot was filled, it contained 2 cans of beef stew, several cups of corn, cans of peas, spinach and green beans, 2 jars of Ragu, most of a head of cabbage, broccoli, a fistful of rice, and a cup of curly noodles.

       When it was near completion, BOB arrived. BOB is back. He set right to work filling the ice bin and seeing to other needs. Our young woman finished her PBJs and began filling plates to serve the pre-release. She caught on so fast that I found myself with little to do but watch. And that felt pretty good because it clearly demonstrated why I get so worn out from filling 40 plates! I could enjoy "supervising" more often. In fact, she says she'll be back next Sunday!

       The baby girl and her cousin were there, but didn't come to lunch. The baby's mom came for some milk, so I sent their toys back with her. However, we have two new girls(!) who are 14 and 17, and I had prepared age-appropriate goody bags for them. Too, I had saved back enough mini-packs of gum to put one on every plate.

       Interestingly, as the homeless crowd came to the counter, the first young woman to take a meal didn't understand about giving BOB her room number. The guy with the young woman said, "She slept in room #8 last night." Well, that's in the MEN's section, and the poor girl is not registered to stay there. We fed her and ignored the issue. She hung her head and looked awfully frightened and lost. Sad.

       Tall dark handsomes were both at lunch and both upbeat. I slipped a couple of chocolates to the sweet one when he came to mop the dining room. There's a new pre-release that Doug says has been in prison for 26 years. He said the man was trembling one night last week when they had meatloaf, saying he could not remember having had such good food.

       So Doug and BOB got themselves each a bowl of soup, and I did too. Pretty soon, BOB said, "Miss Joy, that soup is off the chain!"

       I don't get out enough… it was a compliment. Even the young volunteer understood. Doug filled a small container with the leftover soup for BOB to take home.

       The Christians arrived, just as the homeless were finishing their meal and vacating the dining room. Doug eagerly told the volunteer what we do with the loaves, and I raced to ask him, jumping up and down, "Can we shoot hoops? Can we, huh?"

       He pulled a burnt loaf out of a sack and threw me a long pass as I dashed out the back door, vaulted it over the porch railing, and watched it drop clean into the gaping maw of the dumpster… looking straight into the windshield of the Christians who had not yet backed out of the driveway…

       We may not see them again… depending on who saw what and how they define "off the chain."

MAKING MAGIC

      Someone donated a box of mostly expired foods last week, but nothing we couldn't use. The scalloped-potatoes mix provided dried potatoes for my soup, and powdered cheese sauce for the mashed potatoes that Doug was making for dinner. You'd be surprised how things can be used, outside of their intended purposes.

       So today I want to share the soup recipe with you. Don't even think about replicating it—you'd fail. But thanks to that little mid-week donation, I was able to begin with the contents of the mystery box. I started with the remaining can of Progresso Recipe Starters Cooking Sauce (3-cheese flavor). Then I added a can of beets. This is where Doug peered into the pot with raised eyebrows and a grimace. Yes, it was ugly.

       The fuchsia beet juice continued to dominate the pot, even after I added a jar of beef gravy, small cans of carrots, corn, green beans, great northerns, mixed vegetables, chicken, beef stew, a #10 can of black eye peas, a jar of Ragu, fresh celery, and a lot of water. After about an hour, the beet juice gave up. I added a fistful of rice and three or four handfuls of curly egg noodles. We made some taste tests and declared it to be good.

       Our diners also declared it good—they cleaned out the pot! We served chicken nuggets, fries and fruit on the side. There were even enough bitty packs of gum to put one on every plate, and I found some chocolate-covered-caramel candies to fill in, should the gum run out. When the tall dark sweet one came to get his drink, I told him that I had looked for the peanut butter cups he'd wanted last week, but I'd found only "these."

       "Oh, I like those too!" he said. Then his buddy said, "Can I have some too?"

       Sweet One grinned and said, "Tell him no."

       They were charming and appreciative, as was most everyone who came to lunch. One new pre-release claims to be a vegetarian, but he ate a full meal and didn't complain. Two others were doubtful about the soup, but when I promised them it contained no pork, they took it.

       Angry Mom and her boys do not live there anymore!

       The little girl and the baby are still there, and I enjoyed pampering them. Doug says the only meal they come for is Sunday lunch, so the kids will have goodies. We agree that those little ones are very happy children, which says all we need to know about their mothers.

       Our Oriental fellow is still there, and his English improves. He was among more than 40 who came to lunch.

       Two high school senior fellows came to do some community service as part of their senior project. Doug let them clean out the walk-in refrigerator and freezer. Then he put them to work making 30 sack lunches. One was tall and very thin, while the other was short and quite plump—Mutt & Jeff. And all three of the guys bonded over the topic of pick-up trucks. I had no idea that Toyota actually made a better chassis during one period than another, or that Ford had so many upsides.

       If the mystery box remains untouched, there will be no soup next week. Even I cannot make soup from beets, evaporated milk, and saurkraut.

POWDERED SUGAR & SPRINKLES

      High winds were blowing the clouds away as I drove into town this morning. In every direction, the distant mountains were covered with a skiff of snow, as if dusted with a gigantic shaker of powdered sugar. The sun was shining brightly on the peaks, but town was gray and dismal.

       At the opposite end of the seasonal spectrum, I noticed masses of bright red tree blossoms sprinkled into heaps at the curbs, as if spring had only a moment to visit before being blown away. Circumstances crowded the dining room before and after lunch and called for another soup pot filled to the brim.

       Doug and I had the kitchen to ourselves today, and I admit that I enjoyed it! BOB has been denied a position he was hoping for there, so he probably won't be back. That leaves just me to open the door for the Christians, and today they were early! Fluffy didn't come. Perhaps she'd changed her mind about BOB or knew of his circumstances…

       Doug had a plentiful supply of chicken salad and #10 cans of fruit, but he didn't have anything else for lunch. The mystery box has been neglected lately, but I found several cans of Progresso Recipe Starters. I used 2 cans of "creamy portabella mushroom," one can of "creamy parmesan basil," and two cans of "creamy roasted garlic." They're quite flavorful, but not very pretty in a soup pot. To those we added a #10 can of pintos and another of green beans. We poured in 3 cans of chicken broth and a box of beef broth. There was a small can of Veg-All, and Doug had 6 bakers which I cut up and dropped in. This was stone soup's finest hour. When the brew was well done, I added five fistfuls of curly egg noodles to stretch it out. The huge pot was nearly full. In a small pot, I put another can of chicken broth, two cans of chicken noodle soup, and more egg noodles. This brew would come to our rescue if the main pot fell short. When all was said and done, there might have been 2 small bowls of soup left over. Doug declared it to be the best soup I've ever made. I reminded him that he witnessed it's creation, and there was a lot of luck in the pot.

       Angry Mom (and boys) are still with us—long after their allotted time. The woman had her boys seated at a table during the first 90 minutes I was there. She served them foods on plates (I don't know what foods). She stayed in that dining room right up until we had Gatekeeper announce that the pre-release could come in. She milked her remaining seconds by carefully wiping the table where she'd sat. She had come to the counter several times, asking for "cream" for her coffee and what's for lunch… and she knows my heart is hard where she is concerned. I need to work on that.

       To my delight, the pregnant pre-release was not sent back to prison "for being pregnant." Our generally mean and nasty Bureau of Prisons director decided the young woman could just "go home" 2 months early. Here is a rare opportunity to see the system get it right.

       The tall, handsome intimidator and the tall, handsome sweet one were at lunch together. They were both charming today. The nice one wanted some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, but I could find none. I had put a marshmallow-filled chocolate heart (or a pack of gum) on each plate. While the mystery box goes begging, the candy box runneth over.

       Our homeless diners numbered about 30, and they stormed the dining room before being called in. One fellow has a rip-roaring case of pink eye (since last week), and I was warned to not touch anything he had touched—which begs the question: How do the others avoid that? Angry Mom did not bring the boys with her… When I asked her if they'd be coming to lunch, she said, "Not yet." They never came.

       "Somebody" punched a fist-sized hole in the hall wall, outside the dining room. His identity was determined, and Doug and Gatekeeper have the task of reporting him… or not. Doug was feeling "awfully guilty" when I left, but I reminded him that the next "wall" might be someone's face—a woman, or a child… It's not okay to do that.

       It was too cold to shoot hoops off the back porch; however, Doug has a friend who wants the loaves for her goats. This is much better than sending them to the landfill.

       As the tall, dark, handsome sweet one said on leaving, "Have a good week!"

ENTITLEMENT AND INELIGIBILITY

       After nearly a week of having "the crud," I dragged myself to the shelter this morning, knowing I'd feel the same here or there. Doug opened the back door and groaned at me—he has a sore throat. He'd brought his Millennial to work with him, and they were both miserable, but only Doug's discomfort was visible—he's a man.

       He was working hard to get lunch and dinner preparations in the oven, whining and holding his throat, as if he weren't going to be able to carry on much longer.

       I found two throat lozenges in my purse and gave them to him. His daughter and I didn't hear another peep about his throat, and everyone had a great morning in the kitchen!

       There were many of us there: BOB came in early because his church didn't hold services today. Dean (remember Dean from "before Doug?") Dean was in and out, doing custodial duties. That little turf was quite crowded for the first hour, and then we seemed to find a rhythm. Daughter and I sacked some PBJs, Doug put frozen pizza in the ovens and dropped some fries into the deep fryer. I put a bowl of canned fruit on the serving counter, and I made coffee at least three times. Others made coffee that many times as well.

       It's a chilly, wet day, and added to that is the fact that ALL of our pre-release are housebound for 3 weeks. Somebody brought beer into the building last week, and nobody wanted to say who, so everybody is being punished. Their families can visit with them on Sunday afternoons, but they are otherwise housebound unless they are at a job.

       I didn't get the whole scoop on one of our pre-release, but Doug found time to point to her, make the "she's pregnant" gesture, sweeping one arm out beyond his belly, and mouthing, "she's going back to prison." I watched her later as she came for more coffee, and I wondered…

       The 50-pound potato sacks of bread were piled deep near the back door when I arrived. Doug said they'd been delivered yesterday. The Christians who bring the bread are two women and a man. One of the women is extra fluffy. According to Doug, the fluffy one saw BOB working in the kitchen and asked Doug if Bob were married. Doug tried to squirm around giving specifics, but once the lady discerned that BOB is single, she told Doug to be sure and let BOB know she's available.

       First, there's nothing so outlandish about that. It happens all the time. It doesn't happen all the time when there are innumerable cultural differences dividing the lookees. So, while it's great that the bread is coming to the shelter fresher, I'd surely love to be there the next time Fluffy takes a shine to BOB. Come to think about it, who is going to open the door now?

       Tall, dark and intimidating, it turns out, is two people. I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing it sooner. They are both tall, dark, handsome, and sporting long, long braids. I have only seconds to look into each pair of eyes as I meet their needs at the serving counter. Today, TDI seemed to change personalities with each appearance at the counter.  He'd be grumpy and sullen, then sweet and kind. I was frankly relieved to realize there were two of them—otherwise, we'd have been looking at multiple personalities sharing a body, and that's just scary.

       A new member of the pre-release is gay. Sadly, Doug tells me, he eats alone and is extremely shunned. I recall how the gay homeless fellow we had a few weeks ago was not shunned.

       My little girl and the baby were at lunch, and I enjoyed giving them their goodies. On top of that, I found dozens of lollipops and tiny packs of gum in the candy bin, so I put a treat on every diner's plate. We served more second helpings than on any other Sunday I've witnessed. It must be the weather—but the comfort foods didn't hurt either.

       So that's about it. The crud and I held up for only 2-1/2 hours. I left Doug with two Tylenol and a couple of decongestant tablets. I can't help him with the Millennial—got one of my own.

是什么呢？

       Today was different in so many ways. Doug had plans with his family during the morning and lunch hours, so BOB and I were in charge. BOB sliced three large hams and had those baking when I arrived. He had sweet potatoes in the oven when I left. Doug was due in time to finish out the dinner hour, and I was delighted that we could afford him a few special hours with his family. There were numerous phone calls for Doug while I was there. BOB was quick to teach me how to say, "He's having problems with his truck, but he'll be here soon."
       As planned last week, I made the soup from the cans that I hauled around in my car all week. Thankfully, there were more usable canned goods in the mystery box, and I was able to make a very full pot of soup. It's raining today, and it's a cold rain, so we figured the crowd would need that much soup (they did). Doug had ordered a good supply of chicken salad for us, and mixed fruit.
       We had 17 pre-release, and about 25 homeless, but only one person questioned the food—a homeless Oriental man who speaks nearly no English. I tried very hard to understand his question, as he pointed to the chicken salad (or was it the soup?), and I asked kindly that he repeat it. Then I asked if he spoke French (any port in a storm). No. Finally, he gave up and thanked me for trying (not his words—I have no idea what his words were).
       It is most uncommon for us to have guests from other countries or of a race other than black or white. Our town is home to thousands of Mexican emigrants, but in my time there they have never taken advantage of the homeless shelter. I see them as a people who are most self-sufficient and tightly knit. Just reporting what I see…
       The tall, dark, handsome Intimidator was at lunch! I thought he had finished his time and moved on, but he hasn't. He has changed his hair-do, and I remarked on it. He's so laid-back anymore, just walking easy, and smiling… and coming to the counter to thank me for the "great lunch." I told him he missed the quiche, but he didn't seem to mind. He seems happy, and that is surely a good thing.
       So BOB and I were checking off the names, as the pre-release came to lunch. When all were seated, I counted 17 heads but only 16 checked-off names. Not knowing those folks as well as Doug does, BOB and I couldn't tell who had not been checked off, so he suggested I ask a fellow who's been there a long while and who is quite personable. I took the check-off list into the dining room and asked the fellow if he could identify the missing name. He said he couldn't. Then a young man came up to me smiling and said, "I didn't give my name! It's Johnson."

       "Thanks!" I said. Then, turning to the crowd, all of whom were listening, I said (completely without thinking), "Never mind. He turned himself in."
       I would have just died of mortification, except that the entire group was smiling from ear to ear, especially the guilty party. Whew.
       The homeless group has a lot of new faces. Oddly, they blend as if one enormous neglected person split into 20 people of both genders and all about the same size. Other than the mothers of some of our children, I saw no familiar faces, and none of the children was at lunch. Gatekeeper confirmed that Angry Mom's kids were with their dad, so I was spared having to report her for leaving them in the room…
       Right on time, the Christians brought their five 50-pound potato sacks of bread. BOB completely ignored their knocking and did nothing to help me greet and thank them, but he did shove several bags that I had deemed unfit into the dumpster. He had no interest in shooting baskets or going out for a long pass. I like BOB, but he's awfully serious! Maybe if he had a job, he'd be more upbeat… I know that works for me.