Saturday, December 29th, 2012
Tonight was our first of 3 nights staying at a homeless shelter for men in downtown Atlanta. We arrived with all our cute, fuzzy blankets, iPhones and backpacks packed full and saw the line to get it. At first it was awkward because not only we were "cutting" in line, but also we were unsure of what these men would be like. It didn't take long before we found out, though, because one of them cracked a joke to break the ice and had us laughing in no time. They couldn't believe we'd come all the way from Idaho to volunteer but seemed excited to have us. It definitely caught me off guard.
Admittedly, I came carrying not only a full backpack, but a mind full of stereotypes and ideas about homeless men staying in a shelter. I assumed they'd be the kinds you see on the streets of Seattle, half cracked out with dreadlocks, a ragged beard and body odor following them in a cloud. I trusted that our university would ensure that we would be in a safe environment but I wasn't sure how safe it would be. I felt bad when again my ideas were wrong. These men seemed to be groomed, sane and sober. If you saw them around town, chances are that you wouldn't assume they were homeless.
We migrated to the kitchen to help with the other volunteer group that was serving and preparing dinner and passed out the food. After everyone was served, we dished up too and sat dispersed amongst them. It didn't take long before I could see the camaraderie between some of them, in addition to their manners and humility. They asked me more about Idaho and why we were here which transitioned to asking about my majors in school which always leads to a conversation about traveling. I was surprised further to know that many of them had traveled either through military work or just on their own. My mind was rushing to find out how they'd all gotten here because as the conversation drew on, it became clear that many had college degrees, had family (one even had a fiancé) and glimmers of success in their lives. Sure, some of them were a little strange, but nothing so out of the unordinary as to explain their homelessness completely.
After dinner, I was hoping to get a game of cribbage going with some of the guys I sat next to at dinner, but one of them told me he never played games. Before I had time to be confused, he pointed out a man I'd seen ironing a cloth chess board earlier and told me that he could show me how to play chess. As far as chess goes, I know how the pieces move and that's about it. I know zero strategy and am the kind of person you could checkmate in 10 moves. Tis didn't worry Garlan, who assured he could teach me some classic openings and key moves.
We started with the 4 knights opening, which involves opening with parallel moves by all knights on the board, which can lead to castling the king. That means protecting it behind 3 pawns next to your rook. Next was bishop's opening, which starts by moving the king's pawn out 2 then taking his bishop to C4. This can open up the queen and do serious and "sexy" damage if the opponent is a noob like I am. Garlan was doing a good job explaining how to set the moves up as well as testing my correct execution of them. Chess is notorious for the amount of skill, strategy and focus it requires and it was stressful keeping track of so many things especially in front of someone at a much more advanced level, but considering I'd just gone from not even knowing what C4 was, I was enjoying it...
Garlan also taught me other chessisms, like making sure that you notice when 2 pieces are honing in on 1; if you take first, you finish first; "smell the fear of your opponent" and to not risk something for less than its value. Suddenly, chess seemed more aggressive than passive and each move had to be calculated actively, rather than in defense and retaliation. Maybe I need to be more in touch with my chess side...
It was astonishing. I'd learned chess 101 from a homeless man. But he was more than that. What exactly, I'm not sure, but I relished in his teachings. Something I'd never expected.
But it's also important to note some of the conditions of this shelter. It's not a free for all every night. You have to get on a list. To stay on the list you have to play by the rules, which include being at the shelter every night by 7 pm and staying until you're kicked out by 6 am. Lights out is at 9 pm. Also, you have to be courteous and compliant. If not, you're out. While beggars can't be choosers, I can't say with certainty I'd want to play by these rules every night and day. Food and shelter are non-negotiable but so is autonomy. But perhaps it serves as motivation to get out...
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Jesus in Suburbia
Saturday, December 29th, 2012
Going into our second day with Open Hand, it was actually our first day doing deliveries. At first I was a little nervous because it seemed like there were a lot of opportunities to screw it up and we were relying on printed directions to help us navigate. But I was excited because it was also an opportunity to see more of Atlanta and meet some of its residents as well as see the people we were directly helping and preparing meals for.
I was a little wrong about all of these things...the directions they gave us were spot on and I was stoked to be the navigator, despite the pressure of getting us lost. My geography senses were tingling and I started to get a feel of where we were. I was wrong about seeing more of Atlanta, too, as we were actually delivering in one of its suburbs far out off the freeway. Some of the homes were beautiful, some were deteriorating, but most weren't even homes at all. They were elderly assisted living communities, rather.
Communities like this are tough for me because I can't imagine caring for my elderly parents, especially if they were very ill or mentally not all there, nor can I imagine just sending them away. But there are few options in between...some of the people we delivered to seemed to have their wits about them and looked like they were enjoying their independent but assisted lifestyle. Others, however, seemed to be falling apart. Just walking up to their front door you could smell that distinct smell of neglect, poverty and melancholia, many with a hint of cigarettes too. We met one wheelchair ridden man who had severe mobility issues, even with the wheelchair. When he answered the door, he seemed confused as to the year even. He asked us the same question a few times and still misunderstood that we were college students volunteering for Open Hand. The scary thing is that he is just one of many, because the complexes we delivered to were huge, housing hundreds of residents each.
Another striking thing I noticed were all the churches. Obviously we're in the South, so I expected it, but still, there's as many churches here as there are Starbucks in Seattle. And I'm sure you know by now I like coffee more than I do religion. And a lot of these churches seem like they have very devout followers. Nobody has denounced me for lacking religion and there are plenty without it, but a lot of people here are avid about it and assume because of our work, we must be here with a church too. Nope. Not all who do good are religious, not all who are religious do good.
Going into our second day with Open Hand, it was actually our first day doing deliveries. At first I was a little nervous because it seemed like there were a lot of opportunities to screw it up and we were relying on printed directions to help us navigate. But I was excited because it was also an opportunity to see more of Atlanta and meet some of its residents as well as see the people we were directly helping and preparing meals for.
I was a little wrong about all of these things...the directions they gave us were spot on and I was stoked to be the navigator, despite the pressure of getting us lost. My geography senses were tingling and I started to get a feel of where we were. I was wrong about seeing more of Atlanta, too, as we were actually delivering in one of its suburbs far out off the freeway. Some of the homes were beautiful, some were deteriorating, but most weren't even homes at all. They were elderly assisted living communities, rather.
Communities like this are tough for me because I can't imagine caring for my elderly parents, especially if they were very ill or mentally not all there, nor can I imagine just sending them away. But there are few options in between...some of the people we delivered to seemed to have their wits about them and looked like they were enjoying their independent but assisted lifestyle. Others, however, seemed to be falling apart. Just walking up to their front door you could smell that distinct smell of neglect, poverty and melancholia, many with a hint of cigarettes too. We met one wheelchair ridden man who had severe mobility issues, even with the wheelchair. When he answered the door, he seemed confused as to the year even. He asked us the same question a few times and still misunderstood that we were college students volunteering for Open Hand. The scary thing is that he is just one of many, because the complexes we delivered to were huge, housing hundreds of residents each.
Another striking thing I noticed were all the churches. Obviously we're in the South, so I expected it, but still, there's as many churches here as there are Starbucks in Seattle. And I'm sure you know by now I like coffee more than I do religion. And a lot of these churches seem like they have very devout followers. Nobody has denounced me for lacking religion and there are plenty without it, but a lot of people here are avid about it and assume because of our work, we must be here with a church too. Nope. Not all who do good are religious, not all who are religious do good.
Why Mennonites Don't Grow Mustaches
Friday, December 28th, 2012
After our first shift we went back to our little church home for a wholesome PB&J lunch. Which, as an fyi is still weird to me, because churches are outside my comfort zone.
While eating my alternative PB&J (PB with banana on a whole grain cracker...), Pastor John came in for a spur of the moment get to know you session which was helpful for not only him, but the whole group as well. He asked all our names and a fun fact to help him tie the name to something. My fun fact was that I am obsessed with Argentina. Shocking, I know. Then he told me he knew an Argentine and they would drink mate when he stopped by the church. Because other fun fact, Pastor John also helps Latinos get legalized by finding them work and getting their finances and papers in order. After everybody's introduction, he seemed to have some kind of connection or story to go with it, including things like how he biked all over the US, helped former criminals start businesses and fun facts about Mennonites.
Some fun facts including:
--They sometimes don't sport mustaches because centuries ago, a mustache signified that a man was mature enough to go to war and being that Mennonites do not support war, they shaved their mustaches in protest. They still grow some epic beards, though.
--In addition to not supporting war, they also do not use the legal system, police, insurance, among a few other things.
--They're somewhat anti-government because of the previous belief. This also means they have their own form of group insurance, because they are community oriented.
--They are not Amish, with Amish peoples representing a broken off sect of the Mennonite church.
After a long chat, it was time to get to work and Tony and I lucked out because we had previous painting experience so we started taping things off to paint a hallway leading to a nursery room. While taping, we listened to some good tunes and talked about, well, life. Spanning from relationships to Seattle to traveling. The usual. After taping, we wanted to get started but we realized that we were missing some key shades of paint as well as some rollers. John said we could just use brushes which made us both do that nervous "yeah...maybe...orrrr how bout not?" look. A trip to Wal Mart later, we had our rollers. Additionally, I got some work boots, anticipating ruining my only tennis shoes that I brought. But my baby feet still fit into s boys' size 3 so I got a good deal. Even if they make me look like a baby.
But our work for the day was already done. Meanwhile, some of our crew was out clearing trees, logs and sticks, during which, they found some charred remnants of dolls. I only saw photos but saying it was terrifying was an understatement...the rest of our crew was raking leaves for another burn pile. This raking was tedious and difficult considering the debris was all kind of wet and had they just dumped it in the right spot the first time, we wouldn't have had to use our deteriorating rakes to begin with.
The piles were supposed to be burned and despite a boatload of gasoline, they didn't seem to catch. Not to mention that burning is prohibited within city boundaries...I started getting cranky because in addition to being a terrible rule breaker, the smoldering fire was starting to smoke out my contacts which were now suctioning to my eyeballs. I couldn't see and didn't want to smell like a campfire for 3 days so I went inside and started writing. I felt like I was abandoning my team and didn't want to be alone, but at the same time, it was a good moment to just take a step back and enjoy some personal space.
After our first shift we went back to our little church home for a wholesome PB&J lunch. Which, as an fyi is still weird to me, because churches are outside my comfort zone.
While eating my alternative PB&J (PB with banana on a whole grain cracker...), Pastor John came in for a spur of the moment get to know you session which was helpful for not only him, but the whole group as well. He asked all our names and a fun fact to help him tie the name to something. My fun fact was that I am obsessed with Argentina. Shocking, I know. Then he told me he knew an Argentine and they would drink mate when he stopped by the church. Because other fun fact, Pastor John also helps Latinos get legalized by finding them work and getting their finances and papers in order. After everybody's introduction, he seemed to have some kind of connection or story to go with it, including things like how he biked all over the US, helped former criminals start businesses and fun facts about Mennonites.
Some fun facts including:
--They sometimes don't sport mustaches because centuries ago, a mustache signified that a man was mature enough to go to war and being that Mennonites do not support war, they shaved their mustaches in protest. They still grow some epic beards, though.
--In addition to not supporting war, they also do not use the legal system, police, insurance, among a few other things.
--They're somewhat anti-government because of the previous belief. This also means they have their own form of group insurance, because they are community oriented.
--They are not Amish, with Amish peoples representing a broken off sect of the Mennonite church.
After a long chat, it was time to get to work and Tony and I lucked out because we had previous painting experience so we started taping things off to paint a hallway leading to a nursery room. While taping, we listened to some good tunes and talked about, well, life. Spanning from relationships to Seattle to traveling. The usual. After taping, we wanted to get started but we realized that we were missing some key shades of paint as well as some rollers. John said we could just use brushes which made us both do that nervous "yeah...maybe...orrrr how bout not?" look. A trip to Wal Mart later, we had our rollers. Additionally, I got some work boots, anticipating ruining my only tennis shoes that I brought. But my baby feet still fit into s boys' size 3 so I got a good deal. Even if they make me look like a baby.
But our work for the day was already done. Meanwhile, some of our crew was out clearing trees, logs and sticks, during which, they found some charred remnants of dolls. I only saw photos but saying it was terrifying was an understatement...the rest of our crew was raking leaves for another burn pile. This raking was tedious and difficult considering the debris was all kind of wet and had they just dumped it in the right spot the first time, we wouldn't have had to use our deteriorating rakes to begin with.
The piles were supposed to be burned and despite a boatload of gasoline, they didn't seem to catch. Not to mention that burning is prohibited within city boundaries...I started getting cranky because in addition to being a terrible rule breaker, the smoldering fire was starting to smoke out my contacts which were now suctioning to my eyeballs. I couldn't see and didn't want to smell like a campfire for 3 days so I went inside and started writing. I felt like I was abandoning my team and didn't want to be alone, but at the same time, it was a good moment to just take a step back and enjoy some personal space.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Open Hands, Open Heart
Friday, December 28th, 2012
We were ready bright and early for our first day on the job at Project Open Hand, a non-profit that cooks, packages and delivers planned balanced meals for the elderly, non-mobile and or dietarily restricted people of Atlanta and the greater metro area.
I guzzled down some perfect mate as we passed by the city and I noticed some landmarks already, like Williams St., home of [adult swim] and Cartoon Network; The Varsity, a hoppin' world-famous hot dog and burger; Coca Cola and CNN. Not to mention the various Olympic remnants from when the city hosted the 1996 Olympics. I liked what I was seeing already.
We arrived to the warm, welcoming crew at Project Open Hand and got a rundown of the organization. But before our orientation started, we were greeted by Gregory, the ultimate riddle master. I can't quote verbatim his riddles, nor his mode of speech delivering them, but needless to say it puts everybody in a good mood when you are immediately acknowledged by a theatrical man with maybe the biggest grin I've ever seen.
I don't wanna brag, but I guessed 2 out of the 3 riddles...thanks, mate!
But back to our orientation...Started in 1988, POH was originally founded by a man who wanted to help feed his increasingly ill, malnourished and immobile friends afflicted by HIV/AIDS. The project stuck and kept growing. By 2012, it had served 20,000,000 meals, averaging 2 million per year once it hit its stride. It has a weekly grocery bill of $70,000 with meals averaging $6 per meal, providing 500-600 well balanced calories. To prepare those meals, they rely on a massive volunteer force every day of every week. With over 100 daily volunteers, POH delivers to thousands of people.
As I mentioned, POH provides meals for those who aren't able to provide food for themselves due to combinations of poverty, health issues and mobility problems. It is a concerted labor of love. In order to make it happen, it takes lots of volunteers and lots of organization with almost every aspect planned out perfectly. With that much going on, it has to be. Fewer organizations have impressed me with their coordination. I was already excited before we'd begun.
With our training portion complete, we were ready for the kitchen and we got right to it on meal packaging. This is a major assembly line production. POH has specific containers which are separated one by one and passed to the first course scoopers. POH has about 50 approved meals in a rotation, so your meal could be as something as simple as spaghetti or a little more complex like chicken with a special rub or marinade. This is then passed to the second set of scoopers who put in a filling side like rice which is topped off by a side of veggies or beans perhaps. It sounds boring, and at times the repetitive motion of the scooper makes you feel like you're going to get carpal tunnel syndrome, but chatting amongst ourselves and with other random volunteers makes time go by fast and next thing you know, you've scooped 6 tubs of rice. At the end of the line, the containers are quickly sealed with plastic and labeled, nutrition facts and all. From there, they are organized onto flats.
After this organization process they are organized into delivery units, with each unit packaged with 1-4 meals and cookies and or bread. And guess who puts those 1-4 meals and goodies into the delivery bags!? Once again, an assembly line makes this a quick and easy feat. At least 500 meals passed through our hands. And that's the minimum...
The day's activities were monotonous, but the day itself was much more dynamic because we got to meet the bubbly POH crew and get started on our service. I didn't really know what to expect, so I didn't expect much but even had I had high expectations they would have been exceeded.
For one of the first times ever, I walked into something completely new with people I didn't know very well in a different environment and embraced it completely with a positive attitude. Perhaps this is what it feels like to be a sunflower. Hello, new you.
We were ready bright and early for our first day on the job at Project Open Hand, a non-profit that cooks, packages and delivers planned balanced meals for the elderly, non-mobile and or dietarily restricted people of Atlanta and the greater metro area.
I guzzled down some perfect mate as we passed by the city and I noticed some landmarks already, like Williams St., home of [adult swim] and Cartoon Network; The Varsity, a hoppin' world-famous hot dog and burger; Coca Cola and CNN. Not to mention the various Olympic remnants from when the city hosted the 1996 Olympics. I liked what I was seeing already.
We arrived to the warm, welcoming crew at Project Open Hand and got a rundown of the organization. But before our orientation started, we were greeted by Gregory, the ultimate riddle master. I can't quote verbatim his riddles, nor his mode of speech delivering them, but needless to say it puts everybody in a good mood when you are immediately acknowledged by a theatrical man with maybe the biggest grin I've ever seen.
I don't wanna brag, but I guessed 2 out of the 3 riddles...thanks, mate!
But back to our orientation...Started in 1988, POH was originally founded by a man who wanted to help feed his increasingly ill, malnourished and immobile friends afflicted by HIV/AIDS. The project stuck and kept growing. By 2012, it had served 20,000,000 meals, averaging 2 million per year once it hit its stride. It has a weekly grocery bill of $70,000 with meals averaging $6 per meal, providing 500-600 well balanced calories. To prepare those meals, they rely on a massive volunteer force every day of every week. With over 100 daily volunteers, POH delivers to thousands of people.
As I mentioned, POH provides meals for those who aren't able to provide food for themselves due to combinations of poverty, health issues and mobility problems. It is a concerted labor of love. In order to make it happen, it takes lots of volunteers and lots of organization with almost every aspect planned out perfectly. With that much going on, it has to be. Fewer organizations have impressed me with their coordination. I was already excited before we'd begun.
With our training portion complete, we were ready for the kitchen and we got right to it on meal packaging. This is a major assembly line production. POH has specific containers which are separated one by one and passed to the first course scoopers. POH has about 50 approved meals in a rotation, so your meal could be as something as simple as spaghetti or a little more complex like chicken with a special rub or marinade. This is then passed to the second set of scoopers who put in a filling side like rice which is topped off by a side of veggies or beans perhaps. It sounds boring, and at times the repetitive motion of the scooper makes you feel like you're going to get carpal tunnel syndrome, but chatting amongst ourselves and with other random volunteers makes time go by fast and next thing you know, you've scooped 6 tubs of rice. At the end of the line, the containers are quickly sealed with plastic and labeled, nutrition facts and all. From there, they are organized onto flats.
After this organization process they are organized into delivery units, with each unit packaged with 1-4 meals and cookies and or bread. And guess who puts those 1-4 meals and goodies into the delivery bags!? Once again, an assembly line makes this a quick and easy feat. At least 500 meals passed through our hands. And that's the minimum...
The day's activities were monotonous, but the day itself was much more dynamic because we got to meet the bubbly POH crew and get started on our service. I didn't really know what to expect, so I didn't expect much but even had I had high expectations they would have been exceeded.
For one of the first times ever, I walked into something completely new with people I didn't know very well in a different environment and embraced it completely with a positive attitude. Perhaps this is what it feels like to be a sunflower. Hello, new you.
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