Impressions
Green and yellow walls, meant to be cheerful and welcoming. Succeeding, but at the cost of looking a bit like a slightly outdated preschool. An image enhanced by the quilt hanging on the green wall—the kind where everyone creates his or her own square, the kind I made with Mrs. Futrell’s kindergarten class.
Plastic tables surrounded by an assortment of folding metal chairs. Food service counter, the kind where people stand behind it and scoop food from aluminum trays heated by steam from beneath. Where you can watch the food be scooped through the glass. Again, all together strikingly similar to a 1970’s public school cafeteria.
Coats. Every type, every color. Some torn, some looking relatively new. A blue trench coat. A few NFL fan jackets—Oakland Raiders, Dallas Cowboys. All still being warn, despite the overly-warm climate of the room.
Gnats. Not a lot, but enough to be annoying.
Smiles. Joking. Laughter.
Sullen stares. Despondant faces. Blank stares. Twitching.
Old men. Black. White. Guys my age.
Boston Red Sox hat.
Chocolate chip cookies. Oatmeal cookies. One per person. Until it was time for seconds, when people left with stacks of 5 or 6.
Altar Knights Jersey—my rival High School. Known for it’s stocked parking lot—where a new Jeep looks a little shabby.
Orderly food service. Grins and “thank-you’s” More smiles.
Lack of eye contact. Shame. Mumbled thank-you’s. or none at all.
The systematic nature of the whole process is impressive. The big, friendly man checking everyone off. Knowing all the residents by name. Sitting down, carefully placing their food on the table, clearing their tray. My cue that my services are needed. I take the tray, with a smile and a thank-you. Usually a return smile. Sometimes an impatient tray waves in the air. As if it is presence is inconvieniencing its owner. Or maybe the man is simply trying to be helpful.
Salt packets. Pepper packets. Empty. Full. Sprinkled everywhere. Floors. Tables. Again—reminding me of little kids.
“How old are you?” as I grab a tray
“21”
“You married?”
“Not yet.” With a smile…the best response I can come up with.
“Not yet? Well I still got time then. I still got time!” With a laugh. With a few laughs—the table, me, another tray-clearer.
Guy on a cell phone as he ate the spaghetti. A cell phone? But not a home?
As we went to leave, I noticed a man had a garbage bag filled with Timberland boots, and was pairing them up on the floor. To sell? To share? To show off? I’m not sure. Interesting
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I thought it was interesting how you related the dining area to a Kindergarten classroom. I would have never thought of that comparison. It's funny how various images can spark a remembrance of something of the past. To go along with the Kindergarten theme you compared the homeless people to children. I agree with this comparison. They seem to be like children, lost on their path of life.
ReplyDeleteThe first thing that comes to mind is that we didn't have cookies when we went to serve.
ReplyDeleteThe next thing...I like the use of broken sentences and lots of punctuation to end thoughts.
Your description was limited, but I felt like I was there, perhaps because I have been, but I had similar thoughts when I saw nice clothing, cell phones, clean shoes, etc.