All those silly, self-absorbed activities I record--the lunches, the parties, the club meetings--are superficial bores compared to what I did yesterday. Serving at Sister Jean's Soup Kitchen gave me back the perspective I've shamelessly ignored for so long: The difference between people like me, who have to diet because they have too much, and the others who go hungry in this land of plenty.
Every day except Sundays, Sister Jean and her helpers feed both breakfast and lunch to a church full of poor men, women, and children, of all ethnic backgrounds. What's served depends on what's been donated from restaurants and casinos. Yesterday, it was fried fish, corn, string beans, spaghetti and "gravy," as the Italians say. I call it sauce and, rich with ground meat, it smelled delicious. Along with this, trays of whole wheat bread and rolls were set out on each table, along with pitchers of ice water. There was no dessert yesterday, although Leslie said there sometimes is. Every meal depends on what's donated.
The helpers were a mixed bag and included a very few paid employees (the cooks), those assigned there for community service (I used to send people when I worked at United Way), and volunteers like us. Some are from churches--our four from Tuckerton Presbyterian--and some, such as 93-year-old Fran and her young friend, Karen, are just individuals who want to help. Presiding over it all is the legendary Sister Jean.
This short, dark-skinned, excitable dynamo has been running the Soup Kitchen for many years with the help of Sister Debbie, Brother Kevin, and a host of lesser underlings. (Kevin is a waiter at the Tropicana Casino, but volunteers here two days a week.)
Sister Jean gets up at 4:00 am to oversee breakfast, the first sitting for which is at 7:00. After that, the kitchen and dining room have to be cleaned up and food prepared for lunch. It's almost impossible to understand how Sister Jean--who's in her early seventies--does all this day after day, six days a week. (The Rescue Mission serves meals on Sundays, but according to those who know, the food isn't as good.)
The large room next to the kitchen is equipped with steam tables and opens onto the dining room. Four of us stood on each side of the tables with our big ladles, following an assembly-line system. (I staffed the vegetable station.) We'd pass the plates down the line, each adding her part of the meal, then hand them to the servers to take out to the seated "guests."
Sister Jean's is open for lunch from 11:30 to 2:00 and guests file in to sit at long tables and listen to prayers and hymns. Yesterday, a singer stood on the raised altar (the building still functions as a church on Sundays) and accompanied himself on a guitar while he sang rousing, old-time religious favorites.
At first, it was non-stop, as there were eight or ten servers, all zooming away after they were handed two full plates, and quickly coming back for more. After everyone was initially served, there was a short lull, then those asking for seconds came in, at the same time that people were arriving for the next seating. Servers would rush into the room and yell, "ten more," "four more, two without fish," or "two large, three small" (for the children) and all hands would rapidly add the food to the plates. I estimated that about 300 people were served lunch yesterday.
Incidentally, Sister doesn't want her guests to be given disposable tableware, so actual solid plates and stainless silverware are used. They're heavy and have to be loaded into the dishwashers after each meal, but I admire her so much for that. I hate eating off foam or paper places and it's a million times better for the environment, not to mention less expensive.
At the soup kitchen, it was frantic, messy, and uncomfortably warm. I was yelled at by Sister Jean when I asked to be a server: "You're too old! The younger ones do that!" I tore the first two pairs of plastic gloves I tried and was politely, but sternly, asked to move out of the way when I blocked a server's path. We were there for almost three hours, on our feet the whole time, and I burned myself on one of the hot trays.
It was the best day I've had in ages.