Hey Ish,
From what I know of you, I think you will do just fine following your kind instincts. You are by nature very down to earth and generous and I doubt you come across condescending or do-goody at all and certainly not threatening.
I worked adult services for several years, and never had any real rules. Respect always went a long way and is probably the most basic gift you should give.
When I worked the Agape Dinners, they told us not to touch the homeless under any circumstances as this was considered a very aggressive move on the streets and not to ask personal questions. I always look people in the eye though I don't sustain it if I sense discomfort.
I just looked to see if I had filed that post about the Agape dinner-- I know I later used it for a short story. I did find it, but as you might expect from a Rambi post, it is low on information, and big on description. I am surprised you remember it!
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I just got back from the Agape Dinner. Unlike the usual soup kitchen line, this is a special meal, a family-style, sit-down, please pass the salt, dinner, with tablecloths and flowers on the tables. There are eight “guests” at the table and a host who serves and prevents chaos. The purpose is to remind the guests that they are still human and deserve respect and caring.
It was my first time as the host of a table. Before this, I was a server, which was very comfortable for me, running around filling glasses and getting more bread and clearing, kinda like home. Tonight I decided I Was Ready--- after all it couldn’t be worse than some of the mealtimes I’ve had with CW and Ammo. They warned us that sometimes people said inappropriate things, or tried to sneak extra desserts out, which is against health dept regs, but overall it sounded pretty much like eating with teens.
I donned my little Agape apron and filled iced tea glasses and stood at the head of a table. The hall holds probably 250-300 people..when they open the doors, they enter in an orderly fashion and take a seat. You stand there with your hand up until your table is filled.
And I thought- what if no one sits at my table? Can you think of a more embarrassing rejection? Everyone with a full table of homeless people, and me sitting alone surrounded by -no one. I got this insecurity from my mother; she always worried no one would show up at her dinner parties.
But soon I had my little family gathered around me. I smiled brightly and said I was penni, and here were nametags and a pen. And how nice to see them.
“AMEN!” Shouted JD. He must have been a regular, as he already had his name tag on. JD was a treat. He had a very long beard, with interesting things hanging from it, either trapped accidentally, or perhaps placed there intentionally for special mealtime ornaments.
Across from me sat a man, Lewis, with a baby about a year old, and next to him a large, black woman with a knit cap who looked about 70 and whose name tag said “Willie”. As I watched, she pulled a baby bottle out of her pocket and filled it 1/3 full with sugar, and then poured her iced tea into it.
And handed it to the baby.
We are instructed not to comment on ANYthing. So I smiled approvingly- (Oh , Look how happy Baby is! And hyper! How nice!) and quickly moved on to the next two people. Their name tags said Margie-- and Margie. They looked alike.
“Hello, Margie. Hello, Margie.” I said. And could think of nothing else to say, so stared at them smiling and feeling absolutely stupid.. The thing is-- I was the only person feeling stupid, everyone else was just fine.
On my right was a handsome black man. He had a beautiful smile. I handed him the pen and sheet of tags. He panicked and started rocking back and forth so I grabbed the pen back and said, “Would you mind if I filled yours in? I LOVE to write with these magic markers!”
He smiled, and said Michael was his name. He had a glorious soft bass voice. They were starting the blessing so I wrote it quickly and smacked it on his shirt, which is a nono, as we’re not supposed to ever touch them first--- apparently on the street that’s like a very aggressive move and can get you killed. But Michael was gracious about my faux pas.
The meal was chicken in some kind of mushroom soup gravy, a salad, rice and beans, and bread. After the blessing, I held the platter of chicken toward JD, who grabbed it and took two breasts. This is bad. My fault. I was supposed to say that only ONE can be taken BEFORE this happens. But OK--I figured I just won’t take one. Only NOW what if Charles, on JD’s left, who I swear looked exactly like Rolando Blackman, a Mavericks basketball player from the 80s only shorter, takes two. But I didn’t want to embarrass JD by saying something now.... Oh lawsy.. Surely no Washington DC hostess grande has ever been faced with such dilemmas. Willie took one. I am saved. I offered JD the beans.
When we were all served, I had a piece of bread and a few limp lettuce shreds on my plate, all the food that made it back to me. I lifted my fork and said,”well, bon appetit”, but everyone had already consumed most of what was on their plate and was looking around for more.
“AMEN!” cried JD. He patted my arm. This is.... this is......” he was filled with emotion. I wait. He shook his head and put salad dressing on his chicken bone. I knew that it was time to relate. This is touchy. Think about it. What do you usually say to people you don’t know... Where do you live? What do you do for a living? These are NOT good questions. So I smiled at the baby. Babies are good topics. I looked at Margie and Margie.
“And Brian belongs to you Margie?” I gazed vaguely at the space between them. They shook their heads. Willie said, “He’s mine.” There was a pause.
“Really!” I said. Willie looked like Eddie Murphy playing Eddie Murphy’s grandmother in The Absent Minded Professor.
“I had him young,” she said. We looked at each other. Damn, she was putting me on.
“Willie,” I said. “You are too young to be messing around like that.”
Well, you’d have thought I was Ellen deGeneres. They roared. And after that we were just fine. I turned to Michael and asked how long he’d been in Fort Worth.
“All my life, “ he said. He has this incredible voice--- very peaceful and deep. Like he should be at the front of the riverboat singing, Ol’ Man River. I said,
“Michael, has anyone ever told you that you have a really beautiful voice?”
“No’m.” He said. He looked pleased. “I live at the mission house and I’m learning to work on cars.”
“Well, I bet you sing great.” I said. “And I know these things.”
My best friend, Jan, was serving. She brought us another platter of chicken. I hand it to JD. Michael tapped me on the arm. “You better take yourself some first.” he said. He smiled this beautiful smile and rocked back and forth. I don’t know how to explain this, but it felt suddenly that we were ---- even. He was taking care of me.
JD patted my arm. “More chicken, JD?”
“AMEN!” he cried. “You are..... you are......” he shook his head and took more chicken.
And we discussed the cleanliness of the streets of Dallas compared to the streets of Fort Worth. And the food. And why Margie and Margie look alike. (Mother and daughter).
Periodically JD would pat my arm and shout AMEN”
It was a great evening. And when it was over, Michael shyly asked if I would be there next week, and Willie winked at me, and Brian the baby threw up his iced tea and beans and the Margies smiled and JD patted me and said, “This was.... this was.....” and shook his head and left. |
