Today, like every Tuesday, I led my weekly Campus Kitchen shift to the Brian Coyle Community Center. We had a wide array of traditional Thanksgiving foods prepared for the clients of BCCC: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, all specially prepared by our staff for this event (the stuffing and green beans were especially good). It's part of an event we've dubbed "Turkeypalooza" surrounding this time of year.
As sometimes happens, we struggled to get out the door on time at the beginning of the shift-- the food insisted on taking a severely long time to heat up to the legally required temperatures, and all we could do was wait for the red marker on the thermometer to hit that blessed number. Then we had trouble getting everything into the insulated travel bags, after which we discovered that we had employed the one bag with a broken zipper and had to unpack and repack everything, etc etc. All the while, the volunteers are surrounding around me, wanting to help but having nothing to do. I'm officially stressed out.
When we finally get out the door, we're greeted by the Campus Kitchen van. We load up into what is a shoddy, worn down hunk of metal that is, to be blunt, good for nothing but getting us from point A to point B. I've got nothing positive to say about it beyond its presence in the organization -- we didn't have a means of transportation last year, so this is certainly an improvement -- so I won't try.
But then we arrive at BCCC and everything changes, as it does every time I get there. I always arrive with sour spirits but leave emboldened and satisfied (I'm cautious to say "satisfied," because it is not a self satisfaction but one based in community), although it is often a satisfaction infused with a suggestion of sadness. I see the disparity between the way I live and the way some of the folks at BCCC have to and I cannot help but feel somewhat embarrassed. Embarrassed on America's behalf for continuing to exist in such stratified condition, yes, but somewhat embarrassed on my own behalf as well. Comparatively, my life is pretty damn comfortable. I'm not saying I'm richie rich; I'm financially self sufficient (my mom helps as she can, but we're realistic) in regards to my own expenses, tuition included, and I find my bank account empty long before the end of each month. Yet I still am so lucky to have all that I do and to be all that I am.
This is cliche stuff, but it isn't bullshit. I'm a lucky guy, with friends and family and a mostly comfortable life. The work I do with Campus Kitchens isn't revolutionizing the world, but it just might be changing things on a micro level, and to me that makes it "worth it," whatever that means. So here's to Thanksgiving; I'm so thankful that my life is comfortable enough that I am able to take a little time out of my week to go out into the community and "give back" a little. Not simply to feed a bleeding heart, but to renew myself and those I call neighbors and friends.
As sometimes happens, we struggled to get out the door on time at the beginning of the shift-- the food insisted on taking a severely long time to heat up to the legally required temperatures, and all we could do was wait for the red marker on the thermometer to hit that blessed number. Then we had trouble getting everything into the insulated travel bags, after which we discovered that we had employed the one bag with a broken zipper and had to unpack and repack everything, etc etc. All the while, the volunteers are surrounding around me, wanting to help but having nothing to do. I'm officially stressed out.
When we finally get out the door, we're greeted by the Campus Kitchen van. We load up into what is a shoddy, worn down hunk of metal that is, to be blunt, good for nothing but getting us from point A to point B. I've got nothing positive to say about it beyond its presence in the organization -- we didn't have a means of transportation last year, so this is certainly an improvement -- so I won't try.
But then we arrive at BCCC and everything changes, as it does every time I get there. I always arrive with sour spirits but leave emboldened and satisfied (I'm cautious to say "satisfied," because it is not a self satisfaction but one based in community), although it is often a satisfaction infused with a suggestion of sadness. I see the disparity between the way I live and the way some of the folks at BCCC have to and I cannot help but feel somewhat embarrassed. Embarrassed on America's behalf for continuing to exist in such stratified condition, yes, but somewhat embarrassed on my own behalf as well. Comparatively, my life is pretty damn comfortable. I'm not saying I'm richie rich; I'm financially self sufficient (my mom helps as she can, but we're realistic) in regards to my own expenses, tuition included, and I find my bank account empty long before the end of each month. Yet I still am so lucky to have all that I do and to be all that I am.
This is cliche stuff, but it isn't bullshit. I'm a lucky guy, with friends and family and a mostly comfortable life. The work I do with Campus Kitchens isn't revolutionizing the world, but it just might be changing things on a micro level, and to me that makes it "worth it," whatever that means. So here's to Thanksgiving; I'm so thankful that my life is comfortable enough that I am able to take a little time out of my week to go out into the community and "give back" a little. Not simply to feed a bleeding heart, but to renew myself and those I call neighbors and friends.
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