The sweet ride was back this week. Hadn't seen SW since June, apparently because he'd been driving around the province. On the sweet ride. On tour.
He walked into the middle of the fray, all nicely dressed, wearing a natty knitted vest, carrying a reciprocating saw. Came to where we were sitting to say hi to everybody, then took his saw over to the table, and tucked it under his arm while he filled his plate.
Kept carrying it while balancing a mountainous plate of turkey and the all the fixin's (Canadian Thanksgiving, y'all), until T.B. found him a seat.
After Dinner the usual crowd hung around and played euchre. SW and his reciprocating saw went over to the piano and sat there playing lovely music while the game went on and then we all said goodnight.
By then it was dark. I pulled past the sweet ride and waved as I drove out.
Half a minute later, I saw him in my rear-view mirror, pulling out of the parking lot. I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he drove across the road to Tim Horton's (coffee and donuts, for all you non-canucks). Wondered whether he'd use the drive-thru. And if not, would they let him take his reciprocating saw in with him?
Every now and then I meet someone in whose head I'd like to spend 5 minutes. Just to see the world as they do. What colour it is and how it's shaped. And why, why, why. Some would probably be a bit psychedelic. Some grey and blurred. Some narrow, a tunnel vision view of the next need.
Had a brief chat at Dinner with Beautiful She. She'd come for a visit and it was great to see her. She mentioned that I hadn't written anything last week and we talked about the blog. I said sometimes there's just nothing that jumps out and grabs me to write about. Sometimes it's just normal (?).
But sometimes there's something that strikes me and I'm not sure exactly why and it takes a while to filter down into words.
Like this week. I'm still thinking about this one:
I took my husband to lunch at the soup kitchen. He hadn't been before and was interested to see what they do there and how it compares to what we do at Dinner. We had soup and hotdogs and lemon cake and talked to people at other tables with our mouths full and laughed at things they said.
When we were driving home, he said it was interesting, but he wouldn't go again. It didn't seem right for us to be there and he'd "rather leave the food for people who need it."
I've heard that sentiment from a couple of people. It's a genuine expression of concern and unselfishness, but there's something there that doesn't work for me.
It might have to do with boundaries being drawn. Or with the idea that food is the only thing these people need. Or that you can best serve them by feeding them.
From where I sit at the soup kitchen, it's company most of them need.
They'll sit and share the table and the meal with people I know they don't even like, but nobody eats alone. That would be to miss the point.
Yes, it's good to feed the "people who need it". It's good and important to give money and resources to groups that do that work. But I'd say it's at least as important and far more good to sit down with them and eat and talk and share a few minutes.
To get to know them, and (more scary) to let them get to know you.
That's what we all need. And a soup kitchen is probably the best place to do it.
Power tools optional.
r
He walked into the middle of the fray, all nicely dressed, wearing a natty knitted vest, carrying a reciprocating saw. Came to where we were sitting to say hi to everybody, then took his saw over to the table, and tucked it under his arm while he filled his plate.
Kept carrying it while balancing a mountainous plate of turkey and the all the fixin's (Canadian Thanksgiving, y'all), until T.B. found him a seat.After Dinner the usual crowd hung around and played euchre. SW and his reciprocating saw went over to the piano and sat there playing lovely music while the game went on and then we all said goodnight.
By then it was dark. I pulled past the sweet ride and waved as I drove out.
Half a minute later, I saw him in my rear-view mirror, pulling out of the parking lot. I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he drove across the road to Tim Horton's (coffee and donuts, for all you non-canucks). Wondered whether he'd use the drive-thru. And if not, would they let him take his reciprocating saw in with him?
Every now and then I meet someone in whose head I'd like to spend 5 minutes. Just to see the world as they do. What colour it is and how it's shaped. And why, why, why. Some would probably be a bit psychedelic. Some grey and blurred. Some narrow, a tunnel vision view of the next need.
Had a brief chat at Dinner with Beautiful She. She'd come for a visit and it was great to see her. She mentioned that I hadn't written anything last week and we talked about the blog. I said sometimes there's just nothing that jumps out and grabs me to write about. Sometimes it's just normal (?).
But sometimes there's something that strikes me and I'm not sure exactly why and it takes a while to filter down into words.
Like this week. I'm still thinking about this one:
I took my husband to lunch at the soup kitchen. He hadn't been before and was interested to see what they do there and how it compares to what we do at Dinner. We had soup and hotdogs and lemon cake and talked to people at other tables with our mouths full and laughed at things they said.
When we were driving home, he said it was interesting, but he wouldn't go again. It didn't seem right for us to be there and he'd "rather leave the food for people who need it."
I've heard that sentiment from a couple of people. It's a genuine expression of concern and unselfishness, but there's something there that doesn't work for me.
It might have to do with boundaries being drawn. Or with the idea that food is the only thing these people need. Or that you can best serve them by feeding them.
From where I sit at the soup kitchen, it's company most of them need.
They'll sit and share the table and the meal with people I know they don't even like, but nobody eats alone. That would be to miss the point.
Yes, it's good to feed the "people who need it". It's good and important to give money and resources to groups that do that work. But I'd say it's at least as important and far more good to sit down with them and eat and talk and share a few minutes.
To get to know them, and (more scary) to let them get to know you.
That's what we all need. And a soup kitchen is probably the best place to do it.
Power tools optional.
r
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