NOW Living Downtown!

NOW Living Downtown! It was just another Sunday for me-I slept late, had my coffee, took a short walk, and did some work at the computer, finishing up an article, and doing some emails-traveling a lot doesn't allow me the pleasures of long emails these days-which probably is not such a bad thing for those who receive my emails-since it was HOT again, I put off doing my errands and driving until I was heading to church-around 4pm, went to church, sat with my friend Stephanie, held some babies after church, talked with friends, made some plans for the tuesday night party, and stopped by the grocery store on the way home- one of the beautiful things about having church services on sunday evening, is that usually I can go to church, stop and do my grocery shopping for the week, and still be home and done by 7:30pm-ready to have a relaxing night to prepare me for what the following week may hold. I did some shopping for the party, paper goods, sodas, beginning to buy the cheeses, etc.- and as I came home, I considered that I may have to make more than one trip with all the bags--also, I thought about the lack of space that I would probably encounter, even in my newly restored house, with the great kitchen, with lots and lots of cabinet space, up to the ceiling, and a great pantry-= and it is just ME living in the house (and the cat)- but, the cabinets are full-filled to the brim-overflowing--with all sorts of food-I don't know why or where it got started, but, I buy food as if there is a famine approaching. If one box of rice is good, 2 boxes are better. If one jar of fat-free mayonnaise is good, then 2 will save me a trip to buy more-The origin of my food buying habits is unknown-I certainly did not grow up in a house that was ever in need of food-we had plenty, and there was always extra, and we fed other people-visiting preachers, other families, missionaries, neighborhood kids, and even fed the dogs and cats with leftover table scraps-No, the food buying binges were all my doing-(can't blame this one on my genes)-to make matters worse, I have been overweight all of my life, not morbidly, but, more than pleasantly plump, and that extra tonnage has caused me my share of health problems, from hypertensive to heart murmurs and bad knees- so, even in my periods of shame-induced deeding, I buy diet, low-Cal, nonfat items-in bulk--with the fear that "one day I may not be able to get this high-fiber nonfat calcium filled thingy--the fear that one day I will be stone broke and unable to buy food, and, I will be able to go to my emergency polenta stash, or my emergency cajun jambalaya mix stash--and be rescued from a painful death by starvation. I know it's unlikely, and makes no sense, but, my brain works that way-(if I didn't have fear as a motivator, I'd only be left with guilt, shame and remorse, so, the fear works for me.) Back to Sunday night-I opened the pantry and realized that I was not going to be able to hoard any more dry goods or canned goods into the pantry. I MUST edit the food items. But, what would I do with 24 assorted boxes of Rice-A Roni? After all, it is the San Francisco treat? What if N. Korea DOES bomb the west coast, I could possibly open a San Francisco Treat Memorial Center and feed all of the minions who would reminisce about the tasty rice dishes. Microwave popcorn, canned mixed fruit, canned corn, canned beets, pumpkin pie filling, dressing mixes, cranberry sauces, pastas, tuna, granola, cereals, and more Rice-A Roni. I began to load the miasma into shopping bags. I had decided that I would make a trip to the Community Food Bank tomorrow afternoon and offer my own food bank to them, and if they rejected my generous hoard, I would cross the ecumenical divide and journey to Catholic Charities and sacrificially give the Sisters of the Holy Cross my goods. BUT, just as I was loading up the bags, I heard the neighbors talking in the yard next door. I wondered if they could use any of my foodstuffs? But, I did not think about that first-just how exactly do you offer your food from your pantry to an adult next door? a person that you will have to see again, and interact with again? My own self-talk tried to convince me that taking the bags of food to their door, leaving them there, and coming back home, to have them open the door and imagine that a kind food Santa or canned-goods fairy had left them a bounty of blessing. What if they didn't trust the food, and thought they may be poisoned with the anonymous food? After all, how often do shopping bags of Rice a Roni show up on your doorstep? And the canned peaches? Could this be fruit terrorists at work? Had the Jolly Green Giant finally crossed to the dark side? No, I decided to take 2 of the bags, with the most mundane of the foods, the pastas, over to the door, ring the doorbell, and hope that my neighbor Kelly answered-but, no, her husband and one of their kids answered-with one of the boys who is staying with them, also. Kelly and Steve inherited the house from her mother, who sometimes stays in the garage behind their house-they have a dagger who is 18, and is working to be a LVN, and 3 sons, a 13 year old, a10 yr. old, and an 8 year old-and, they are expecting child #5. Kelly is not young, late 30's, early 40's I would guess. Steve does not work due to a mental illness-the boys do not do well in school, and are often home due to suspensions or other punitive actions. But, they knew of a dad who was about to lose the custody of his 2 sons because he could not afford to pay the utilities and feed the boys- and, so, Kelly and Steve invited them to live in their house next door-2 more growing boys to feed, and a father who visits, on his bicycle, daily, and sometimes stays with them, because they have window air conditioning units. I stood at the door, and said, "would you guys like some food? I'm trying to lose some weight, and don't need all of this pasta and other stuff.. it really isn't good for me, cholesterol and all, and fat content--I stopped short of saying it wasn't healthy-because I wanted them to take the food off of my hands-because in that moment, I felt guilty for having so much, when I looked at them, and knew that they had so little. Steve began to take the bags-and the boys said that they would come over and get the rest of the bags from my house. I felt sad that my own embarrassment and shame could have prevented me from giving them the food, that they obviously wanted and needed- Steve said over and over.."You have no idea..." The boys wanted to begin to eat then--at the door-=-they were excited to look into the bags- I had been afraid to take the food over to them before-afraid not of embarrassing them, but embarrassing ME. The boys came over to the house, and first remarked that the house was cool, and greeted my cat, and said that they watch my cat in the windows--it made me feel safe with my neighbors to know that they watch my cat--and they said "your house is big-our house is small"--"do you have an upstairs?" "and it's just YOU who lives here?" I knew that at least 2 of the boys sleep on the living room floor at the house next door-I knew that someone had hit their AC units, and had damaged them so that they only blew air, not cold air-I wondered about how they must have felt when it was 113, and my empty house was chilled for the cat and the plants, and they ate cereal for their meals so that they would not have to turn on the huge gas stove to cook. It was only 5 minutes, and the thoughts I had, What would Jesus do? Ask them to stay over? Tell them to come back? Offer them ice tea? Apologize for having plenty when they were in need? Here I was, a man who is supposed to believe in a Christ who gave his life for those who did not have life, who talked about giving a drink of water, a coat, a bed--and, I am offering unwanted food items because my pantry is too full-because I was running out of room for MORE unnecessary food items. These were not "staples"--these were wants, desires, pleasures--and, I knew that Kelly and Steve would probably look at some of the boxes and cans and wonder "just what is this?" "Why would he buy so much Thai lemon-grass cous cous?" "What is Cous Cous?" And, the boys would wish I had put more cereal and peanut butter and even tuna or popcorn into those bags. After an hour of conversation with them, the transaction was done, and I returned to look for more items in my pantry, closets, refrigerator to give to the guys next door- I do not know how they eat each day- there is only a limited income to feed, house and clothe them all- at last count, there are 10 people who live in the house and garage next door, who may not always eat, and who are often hot, and who are expecting a new baby, and who are usually unable to buy food to feed their dog. It HURTS to know that this kind of poverty is next door to me, not because of my own ego or embarrassment, but because I am generally desensitized to it, and do not notice it, and do not actively try to discover the needs and meet them-as best I can. Eventually, my unwanted food donation will be done-discarded, or eaten, or given to the dog-- that does not matter-I wonder what they will do when the new baby arrives? I wonder how the boys get up and go to school in the morning, without so much as a poptart? I wonder if Kelly is able to eat well enough that the fetus will develop to be a healthy baby? I wonder if her elderly mother ever goes to sleep hungry, back in her garage? Did my hesitant gesture make any difference? Did I make any difference? I have more questions than answers--not a liberal guilt, but, over and over I think.. My neighbors are hungry... My neighbors are not well... And I LIVE HERE. God, does that matter to you? Living next door does not assauage my responsbility-just puts the situation within my daily reach- I see the face of poverty-daily, almost hourly- and, I am learning how to adapt, reconfigure, rearrange, rethink my own life- and my own habits, and my own wastefulness and my own selfishness--I cannot ignore the poverty, or wish it will go away, or hide it--it greets me, and mocks me, and cries out to me with anguish--As I handed the bag of food to Steve, he said "Don, you have no idea." Sadly, he is right.