SIT WHEREVER YOU LIKE

Any Tuesday evening around 6:30, you can get a free meal at 9th & Oak Street in Kansas City. Last night it included hot dogs, lasagna, green bean casserole, chicken chili, that baked, sliced potato dish all covered with cheese that my mother used to make, dinner rolls, cookies, brownies, energy bars, bottled water, coffee and hot cider. You don’t need a coupon and there’s no password, you just show up, get in line and take your turn. You say, “Yes, please” and hold out your plate for whatever you want and hold back on what you don’t. In either case you say “Thank you” and move on. Once served you can sit wherever you like. Behind the serving line is an urban green space, a well maintained city park with trees, walkways and benches. There is a low retaining wall along the sidewalk that sits well and curb seating accommodates latecomers. 

Last night there was several inches of snow on the ground; the wind had settled but it was cold. Still, as if by magic, at 6:20 several cars, trucks, vans pulled up, set up tables, quickly organized and put out containers of donated food. I was on the handle end of a ladle, loading 10 oz coffee cups with chicken chili. I wore really good, wool socks and insulated hiking boots, long johns, jeans and several layers up top under a heavy, hooded Carhartt coat. My gloves kept my hands warm but fingers and toes went cold after 15 minutes of standing in one spot. Hungry humans off the street were dressed, catch as catch can, as best they could. When you see beggars carrying backpacks, loaded shopping bags and dragging suitcases to dinner, it’s because it is all of their possessions. 

David was next to me up the serving line pouring coffee and hot cider. A crusty old guy with long white hair and beard, he is a regular, reliable volunteer with “K.C. Heroes”, a volunteer group that figures largely in the Tuesday meals program. Last night, besides his task, he helped me keep cups and containers organized. Cleaning up afterward I checked my smart phone; the temp was 23 degrees. 

If my friend Mark is like Don Quixote then I would be Sancho Panza; he drives, solicits and collects donated food, cooks and organizes along with K.C. Heroes. He convinced me that I should volunteer. David the coffee dude needed a ride last night so we drove him across town to a seedy neighborhood, a borderline barrio with residents and business’s that reflect every ethnicity; let him out in front of an old, 3 story, brick apartment building. 

On our ride home I asked about David and Mark explained, he was homeless as well. He noted the difference between being homeless and unsheltered. The latter being, not only homeless but not having access to any public or private buildings for the purpose of shelter. David lives unsheltered in a tent in the woods near the VA Hospital. There is a camp there; not a safe place but the folks who call that wood lot Home do try to take care of each other. In extreme cold, he has a friend in old NorthEast, just off Independence Boulevard who lets him sleep on the sofa. It violates her lease agreement so they have to sleep dressed, in the living room with the lights on and a card table set up. The landlord does watch who comes and goes and if it looks like unauthorized dwellers are present, he calls the police. When the police announce and enter they find friends playing cards; no vagrants, no problem.

As much as I’d like to think otherwise, I volunteer as much to ease my conscience as to exercise altruism. I truly identify with disenfranchised people. I don’t think anybody deserves anything; we get what we get. Nobody makes bad choices so they can fail. All decisions are inert until they unfold and you find out how well you read the tea leaves. I think about all the people who did the right thing and went to work in the towers on 9/11. We are creatures of habit and what worked once upon a time can be your undoing when the winds change. Ben Carson is the current Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. One would think that a famous surgeon could connect the dots but he confirms my doubts about narrow minded intelligence. At his senate approval hearing he said, “Poverty is a choice.” The people I served chicken chili to last night didn’t choose to be homeless or unsheltered. Privileged bigots profess; “We choose our station in life by the choices we make.” They may not be 100% wrong but they are dreadfully, irresponsibly incomplete. We have to make choices as if we Captain our own boat but in fact we are passengers. We can sit in a deck chair, hug the wall or lean against the rail but we go where the ship goes. I know David ate well last night and I hope his sleep was undisturbed.