CORN CHOWDER

There I was behind a folding table with a cardboard box full of plastic containers, like the ones pasta salad comes in at the deli. They were filled with corn chowder or chicken & rice soup. Like everybody else on my side of the table, I wore rubber gloves. They seemed appropriate, handling food and all. Backed up in the grass of a down-town public park, a long line of volunteers doled out food to ragged street people on the sidewalk. They got a recycled plastic bag and fork & spoon, then they came to me. My job was to hand them a bowl of soup, whichever kind they wanted but only one to a customer. You don’t let them reach in to help them selves. They asked what it was, I tell them, they decide or shake their head no and look away. I put the bowl of soup in their hand and they put it in the bag. The box held 70 bowls of soup. 

At church a few days earlier our pastor’s husband let it be known he could use some help. I volunteered. He told me to meet him at 9th & Oak at 6:15 p.m. on Tuesday. In Kansas City 9th Street is where the down town ends, all that is left is to cross over the freeway and head down to the Missouri River. ‘KC Heroes’ is an all volunteer program that feeds the homeless, twice a week. By 6:30 the lawyers and accountants who work in the tall buildings have gone home and the streets are clear. The street people are always there but during the day, by choice or by chance, we don’t see them. Mark had prepared his contribution in the church kitchen, soup and mac & cheese. He was down stream in the serving line from me. 

At exactly 6:30, with no fanfare, not even a “Come & get it”, the lady beside me gave the woman at the front of the line her plastic bag and utensils. The woman turned to me with a gaunt look, I waited a split second, realized she wasn’t going to ask so I handed her a bowl of corn chowder and she moved on. They came all ages, all colors and all conditions. Some were courteous either by nature or on good behavior, others, not that they were rude but preoccupied. I realized two things quickly. The reason nearly 100 ragged people had organized into one gathering was for food and nothing else. Men were alone or in pairs while women stuck together or kept close to their male counterpart. It was clear they didn’t really want anything to do with each other. They all knew any misbehavior would bring trouble as a police car was just down the street with two officers watching every detail. Secondly, with a flash of insight, I realized the rubber gloves were to protect me. You don’t want any direct contact with any of them. A small fraction seemed clean enough but others were filthy-dirty. Rather than dwell on their dreadful plight it goes without saying, they were sadly, desperately in need. 

It should be no surprise but still, one’s place in the pecking order is just as important to the lowest ranking vagrant as to high rollers. Big, strong men who beg for food still have to posture and preen before their peers. Ironically, those big men typically passed on soup while women and lower order men were happy with whichever came up. 

The weather forecast was for storms in the evening. The sky had been threatening since before we arrived and a sense of urgency kept things moving. After the last person was fed and the line shut down, the wind shifted and I could smell rain. Everyone scurried to get supplies and tables back onto the bus, personal items back into cars and big, cold raindrops started to splatter on the street. Little did we know that an F4 tornado was on the ground some 10-12 miles to the SW, headed our way. Listening to the weather bulletin as I drove home I knew I was making distance between the storm and myself. A small town east of Lawrence, Kansas took a beating but the funnel lifted and the big city was spared.

I know it’s easy to judge people who end up so isolated and deprived. What must they have done to be in such dire straits? Paying it forward, the opposite of paying someone back for their generosity. You pay forward to someone who is in need. It’s about the kind of person you want to be. My Tuesday evenings are open so I will help Mark again, maybe I can put some food together too. It is so much better than throwing a few dollars at street corner beggars. You know that your little contribution goes and does what you intended it to do. I like Joseph Campbell’s quote, “Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows but we can choose to live with joy.” I can’t fix their situation but I can share something of what I have. Seldom does a day go by that I don’t think of my mother and her frequently shared observation; “There but for the Grace of God go I.” We are lucky it isn’t us who need a free meal. We’re all just one mistake and bad timing away from desperation.