Recently, I started going to the food bank at our local mission to supplement my food income. My first time there, a lady with wild, bushy blond hair came jumping out of her SUV and said to me, “If you wait here, I’ll pull out what I don’t need and give you the rest.” I was pleasantly surprised and waited patiently for her. She didn’t take long, and handed me half a bag of food, adding, “That can help you and your children.”
I said, “thank you very much,” flattered she thought I might be young enough to have children I was still responsible for.
There were two men at the front desk, one to check my driver’s license and the other to put a new bag in the window. They were very friendly, said God bless you when I left, and informed me that I could come back every two weeks. I thanked them and left.
Excited, I looked in the bags while still there in the parking lot and was happy to see two five pounds of Great Lakes shredded cheese!
I was even more thrilled to see a whole chicken, lots of canned vegetables, Columbia rotini, and fruit. There was mac and cheese and brown rice as well and, to my delight, one Slim Jim stick.
I thanked God for my free food! From then on, every other Thursday before work, I’ve been going to the food bank. I get there right when they open at 9:30 a.m. There is social distancing so only two people can be inside the small lobby at a time. There’s usually a young blond girl there wearing jogger pants with skulls all over them. She’s always texting or talking to someone on her phone. Another gentleman I see often is an elderly man with all white hair wearing expensive looking clothes. The guy seriously looks like someone you’d see on Wall Street or perhaps an owner of a bank. He’s very friendly and always lets me and the young blond girl go first.
Driving home one day, I saw a thin Black male walking down the street with his food bag. I wondered how far he had to walk.
One Thursday, the two men announced there would be a free produce give away the following Friday. “That’s awesome,” I told them. “I’ll be here.” But when I arrived right at 9:30 I saw the beginning of a line in the back of the building. As I drove by, I saw cars pulling up around back and four individuals speedily tossing bags of food into each car.
I didn’t have to be at work till 11:00, so I wasn’t too worried at first, figuring the line probably ended at the end of the street, but to my dismay, as I continued to pursue it, I saw it extending around the corner to the next street and then winding around to the following street! I now realized I had arrived too late. There wouldn’t be enough time to get to work.
The next time I talked to the two men, I asked them how early people were arriving on those particular Friday’s. They said, “It’s crazy. People are getting here at 3:30 in the morning and they just keep on coming.” Wow, I thought.
Though I was slightly relieved to see how many others were struggling during these dark days, I couldn’t help thinking of these lines from a Bruce Springsteen song, “The Ghost of Tom Joad.”
“The shelter line stretchin’ around the corner
Welcome to the New World Order
Families sleepin’ in their cars out in the Southwest
No job, no home, no peace, no rest
Well, the highway is alive tonight
But nobody’s kiddin’ nobody about where it goes
‘I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad” (Springsteen)
My favorite version of it was at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25th Anniversary Concert where Bruce played it with Tom Morello.
I thought how happy Jesus must be looking down from heaven seeing the wonderful work the local missions and others are doing.
As for me, low fat diet or not, that first night, I thankfully chewed on my Slim Jim stick watching my cat, Mingo, happily playing with the bag the food came in . . .
