New Beginnings – Part 2 as I Explore the Spirituality of Hunger in America
Like many first-time pantry volunteers everywhere, I showed up that morning because someone from the church asked me to come. A slot needed to be filled and I stepped up to the plate when I was asked. I was a foot soldier in the army of the outreach. I tried to live up to my status in the church as a new member. I showed up at whatever activity needed help and did my share. Nothing more.
I had no desire to move up any ladder in the congregation.
On that morning of new beginnings, I had no premonition I would ever return to this pantry room.
I had no plans for this place in my future. I had a profession teaching reflexology, Reiki, and canine massage therapy in a healing space in my home on Tannery Brook.
This was a case of fools rushing. Knowing what I know now, I should have run out the door and never looked back. Mary could have handled the crowd that day without me. In the whole two hours, no more than a couple dozen people visited the pantry.
I wasn’t blessed with any psychic knowledge…certainly not the feeling of danger I felt when I saw the head of the building committee in the hallway outside the pantry months later.
There were no lines in the hallway at the new beginnings of my time there. People wandered into the pantry in groups of one and two to choose from cereal, soup, tuna, and peanut butter.
Never in my wildest thoughts on that day did I envision the pantry hallway filled with hungry people, the tiny room packed with fresh produce and jammed with shoppers.
By 2008, the tanked economy was well underway and waits in the hallway were an hour or more.
The Hunger Prevention Nutrition Assistance Program (HPNAP) passed down feeding guidelines which included whole-grain bread, 1% milk, fresh produce. By 2011, the building committee had rules dictating where people could stand, what bathroom they could use, and what parts of the hallway were off-bounds.
Never did I foresee monthly food deliveries averaging over 12,000 pounds.
Never did I imagine, on that day, building committee members angry over hungry people receiving food according to guidelines set down by the State of New York, the Department of Health, and the United States Department of Agriculture.
I never thought I would spend months grappling with the unworthy hungry, a concept introduced to me by a local religious leader. The concept wasn’t explained. Only the two words – unworthy hungry – were used in a sentence: “You are feeding the unworthy hungry.” This was something I never heard of before. What did she mean? Who were the unworthy hungry?
After that first morning in the food pantry, I drove home, pulled out a little notebook from a drawer and wrote what people said, like real writers do. When I wrote these things down, I felt my grandmother’s presence.
Her spirit was with me in the room. I looked around the dining area to see if someone had entered the room without my realizing it. But, no, I didn’t find a soul. I walked over to a cabinet and began my dialogue journal on that afternoon.
A shopper: “They cut my food stamps again. I don’t know how I’m going to make it. I have no money this month. My car died and I don’t know where I’m going to get money to fix it. If I can’t fix it, I can’t buy a new one either.”
Lillie Dale Cox Thurman spoke to me clearly that morning with emphatic, strong, direct instructions. She went straight to my head: “Write this down! Write this down too! Now…write this down.”
My grandmother, Lillie Dale Cox Thurman, stepped into my life on the first morning in the food pantry and never left. Not even when my mother, Uralee Thurman Lawrence, roared in with prayers and fast, furious, aggressive instructions which I resisted to the bitter end. Under their directions, I joined the crowd in the basement and was soon volunteering regularly.
So, now, I’ve got the second volume, “The Ketchup Sandwich Chronicles,” coming out on this blog.
Thank you for reading this blogged book! Please refer it to your preferred social media network and stay tuned for future chapters!
Thurman Greco
Exploring the Spirituality of Hunger in America – New Beginnings Part 1
Part 1
I began this memoir before I even knew it. On the first day I worked in the basement food pantry, I sat with Mary, a member of St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church and the head of the alter society. We greeted a couple dozen hungry people. Mostly single homeless men, there were a few of Woodstock’s famous colorful characters included in the mix that day.
Throughout my career in the pantry, the most colorful of the colorful was Grandpa Woodstock who liked to bring his bride, Lady Estar into the pantry to shop. The two of them went around the room choosing from peanut butter, cereal, tuna fish, and soup. While this happened, he entertained us gushing enthusiastically.
“My, how beautiful you look today!” I fell for his spiel every pantry day. Those words melted my heart. The most professional of the street actors, he knew how to make us each feel special when he flashed his peace sign and posed for photographs. Grandpa knew how to flash that peace sign, whip out his postcards to sell, and sound off his horn “toot toot”. I sometimes thought he spent a few afternoons posing in front of a mirror to figure out how to get the best response from tourists.
Grandpa Woodstock and Lady Estar were most photogenic with their long, flowing silver hair. Their lovely matching beards only emphasized floral print silk skirts and kimonos. Their toenails were painted matching colors and their Teva sandals matched.
None of Woodstock’s rich and famous got so many requests for autographs and photographs. They simply couldn’t compete with his show off tricks.
After all, Grandpa entertained us all with street theater at its finest. So what if he didn’t mean a word of it? We all enjoyed being sucked into the show!
Thank you for reading this article. Please refer it to your preferred social media network.
Thurman Greco
Hunger: An Introduction
The first time I ever saw a child begging for food was in Mexico. I was on a car trip going through Monterrey on the way to visit my future in-laws in Mexico City. When we parked the car in front of a restaurant, children immediately surrounded the vehicle. Small children held their hands out, asking for money for food. Each held up little brown palms. Their pleading faces looked into my eyes.
At that time, I didn’t yet speak any Spanish, but I didn’t need a vocabulary beyond English to understand the situation. Their body language spoke of expectations, hope and hunger.
“Don’t worry yourself about this Coit. They’re just after a few pesos.” My soon-to-be husband tried to comfort me. In my heart I knew different. The child we discussed was about the size of a thin eight-year-old. Teeth don’t lie though. He had a mouth full of adult teeth. That put his age at about twelve years.
In Mexico, children dig through trash for food. And, nine years after this road trip, in Mexico City, a beautiful young Indian woman standing on a corner tried to sell her infant. She approached my church friends first, an American couple in Mexico City on a study visa. Bob and Sue felt they couldn’t get the baby over the border when they returned to the U.S. at the end of their class. I wasn’t a good candidate because, at the time we discussed the baby, I was still married, had no visa or citizenship papers, and didn’t feel I was ever going to cross back over the river heading North.
Whatever happened to that beautiful baby? Whatever happened to her desperate mother? I’ll never know.
You want to talk hunger, then let’s discuss Venezuela and Mexico for a while. Even now, years later, I remember each encounter with a hungry person or household as if it happened only yesterday. I’ll never forget those people, the look of hunger in their eyes.
When people wanted to talk to me about hunger in America, it was a nonissue. Hunger in America? Whoever heard of such a thing?
Hunger has been with us in this country since the beginning. Famous American history stories include Pilgrims starving over the first winter in their new home. The stories of Mormons starving when they headed west are just two. These stories are different from segments of our population going to bed hungry because there isn’t enough money for food.
Even though I’m the loudest mouth in the crowd when I talk about hungry people in America, I’ve never seen hungry children begging for food when I park my car outside a store or restaurant.
Somehow, in this country, hungry people keep themselves hidden unless they are in the food pantry or soup kitchen line.
I lived in both of those places. I could talk hunger with you “until the cows come home,” as my grandmother said. But America? “Fuggedaboutit,” as I heard someone say once on a Brooklyn bus tour.
Thank you for reading this blog post. It is an excerpt from “The Ketchup Sandwich Chronicles”. I’ll be posting more stories from this book in the coming days.
I hope you enjoy them. If so, please refer the posts to your favorite social media network.
But, whether you refer them or not, I thank you for reading this story.
Thurman Greco
Writing this Blog Post was Risky
Writing this blog post was risky. In the early days I worried about peoples’ opinions. I wrote my first blog entries with skeptics in mind. On some level it was important to me for pantry deniers to understand that there are, indeed, hungry people around us
One day I saw clearly that some people aren’t going to like me or my work. Nor are they going to believe what I write, no matter what I say. Once I realized that truth, I knew I’d been wasting energy on other people’s opinions.
I’m no longer interested in convincing anyone about what it means to go to bed hungry.
I’m okay with people saying anything about me because I know the chapters I write are true. The words I write make a difference in peoples’ lives.
This blog is about people creating better lives for themselves while not having enough to eat and lacking proper healthcare, housing.
This blog is about healing and creating new opportunities in one’s life. This blog is about people changing their lives – against all odds.
While I tell this story, I know some people won’t believe a word. It’s okay. I have my story and they have their story.
Food and sex and money are three words and issues more concerned with a person’s core beliefs, emotions, and spiritual attitudes than anything else.
These three words offer rules for everyone. We each have core beliefs around them with opinions about what is okay and what isn’t okay. We have attitudes about food, sex, and money based on what we were taught by family members and peers when we were children. We live our lives based on those experiences. Reduced to their lowest common denominator, these words – food, sex, and money – are the same. They touch core beliefs in ways going straight to the heart and soul.
The food pantry was all about food and money. The sex part was limited, but still there. Sex happened in the pantry hallway line when a shopper suffering with mental illness, a handsome young man who lived in another world, masturbated in the food line.
Our attitudes, opinions, feelings about feeding hungry people are or are not based on facts, statistics, or reality. Nor will facts, statistics, information, change attitudes.
Finally, we all have beliefs about who it’s okay to feed and who it’s not okay to feed. My beliefs are based on life experiences, facts, statistics. Their beliefs are based on the same. I may have taken classes, gone to therapy. And, they may have also.
Their reality about what is okay and my reality about what is okay differ.
In the food pantry hallway, we all looked at the same people and saw different things. This situation is proof positive we each create our own reality about hungry people. Nothing changes either reality. We each see hungry people through lenses shaped by separate life experiences. Hungry people don’t live in two realities.
As the lines got longer, we looked at people in the line. I saw hungry people and they didn’t. I interacted with people weekly who dumpster-dived to feed themselves as well as their children, parents, housemates. Occasionally I read articles about the ethics of dumpster diving. I didn’t think we could explore the ethics of allowing people go hungry because they couldn’t make enough money at their jobs to buy the food they needed to live and work.
People coming to a food pantry can take a three-day-supply of food home each week. The other four days, they’re on their own. That means they can buy more food if they have a SNAP card and if they can get to a store selling food. If they don’t have the money or a SNAP card, they get creative or go hungry. This involves panhandleing, borrowing money or food from friends, relatives, neighbors. They can steal, dumpster-dive, drop in at someone’s house at mealtime, and skip meals.
“Thurman is out of control over at the food pantry” described the local vicar because of the number of people shopping at the pantry and the amount of food they took home.
Thank you for reading this blog post. Please refer it to your favorite social media network.
Thurman Greco
It’s Vacation Time!
Your vacation time is here! It’s your last chance to get a break this summer. That means it’s time to go to the beach – to the mountains – to the city – ANYWHERE!
What do you have to do to get away? Well, first, find a place to go. Second, pack your bags.
FINALLY, drop off loads of food to your neighborhood food pantry before you take off on your vacation..
August is the most challenging month of the year for food pantries because it’s the month with the least amount of food available at the food bank. Food pantries get most of their food from donations and very few people donate in August. And, sadly, this carries right through to September. September brings school openings with parents getting ready for school lunches. Food pantries are often empty.
It’s my opinion that people don’t donate food to food pantries in August because they’re focused on their own activities: vacation, getting kids ready for school.
But, your neighborhood food pantry doesn’t have to be empty. There are things you can do. You can organize a food drive in your neighborhood and take the food to the food pantry. You can keep the food flowing right through to October.
Thank you in advance for thinking of things you can do for your food pantry during the leanest months of the year.
Please refer this article to your preferred social media network.
Thurman Greco
This was almost the last weekend.
There’s only one more weekend left at Mower’s Meadow Flea Market this year. I’ll be there the Saturday and Sunday after Thanksgiving and then that’ll be it for awhile. I understand the flea market doesn’t open weekends again until May.
Don’t quote me on that. I’m not sure. But, one thing I’m sure about: I plan to be there every weekend next season. The hunger book, the donation jar, and I plan to be at Mower’s Meadow Flea Market next season.
I was at a different spot at the flea market every weekend. And, I really enjoyed being there. The people at the other booths were friendly, open, and interested in my booth. I got many tips and tried them all. It was obvious to everyone that I really didn’t know much about flea market marketing. I still don’t know much but my booth presentation has definitely improved.
Thank you to each and every one who bought copies of “I Don’t Hang Out in Churches Anymore”. I doubt if “The Ketchup Sandwich Chronicles” will be available by then but I working on it every day.
The title “I Don’t Hang Out in Churches Anymore” was named by Cullen Thomas and it was well chosen. Many people who picked up the book on the table were bothered by the title because they didn’t understand it. However, it definitely attracted attention.
For those with questions, the title referred to an “unhoused” congregation serving people outside the sanctuary. And, the food pantry was definitely outside the boundary of the sanctuary. The food pantry was, in fact, in the basement.
This story isn’t about how to fix or save or change a church. Nor is it, really, a story about a church at all. In fact, it’s not a manual about anything. It’s a story about how I discovered hungry people in the basement of the building in a tiny food pantry in the corner room.
A memoir, this story tells the truth as I remember it.
If you haven’t had a chance to read this book, it’ll be available at thurmangreco.com during the winter unless I find an indoor weekend flea market that’s appropriate for a table of books and open on the weekend.
My goal is to offer Reiki therapy and tarot readings in addition to the books at the flea market in the future.
But, whether I offer Reiki and tarot or not, I plan to be at a table selling both “I Don’t Hang Out in Churches Anymore” and “Healer’s Handbook”. When “Ketchup Sandwich Chronicles” comes out, I’ll add it to the stack!
See you there!
Thurman Greco
Please refer this article to your preferred social media network.
Seniors and Those Who Care for Them
What does this photo have to do with hungry seniors and those who care for them? A lot, actually. This photo is a group of seniors getting food from the Reservoir Food Pantry in Boiceville, New York.
Carolina Gerard, an outreach intern from the National Council for Aging Care forwarded an article to me this week. It addresses some of the causes, complications, and cures for senior food insecurity. Can you take a moment to go to http://www.aginginplace.org/the-facts-behind-senior-hunger
I’m sure you will find it interesting and engaging.
Thanks again for reading this article. Please share it with your favorite social media network.
Caring Hands
Kingston, New York is a rapidly gentrifying and trendy trendy little town in New York State. Almost every day I see new neighbors in this community. They’ve found just the perfect weekend apartment and are ecstatically, euphorically furnishing it with just the perfect finds. In short, they are in love with Kingston!
In their giddiness, they have may not have yet noticed the Caring Hands Food Pantry and Soup Kitchen. Or maybe they have. Maybe they see that one of the most important things about Kingston is that the residents care for one another. This attitude helps make Kingston what it is – a community we all want to be part of.
2017 is turning out to be a tough year for food pantries in general and Caring Hands Food Pantry in Kingston, New York in particular. But, Caring Hands isn’t just a food pantry. It’s a soup kitchen, and a warming center with a recovery and twelve-step program. As if that’s not enough, they’ve got a free legal clinic, too.
Volunteers at Caring Hands, under the direction of the Rev. Darlene L. Kelley at the Clinton Avenue Methodist Church, work hard as they put their beliefs into action daily. Almost 600 meals are served weekly in the soup kitchen. Over 3,000 households receive groceries monthly.
Children, the elderly, families, veterans, and the ill are all welcome at Caring Hands. The goal is to help people in need help themselves. The message of God’s transforming love is spread throughout the community from the Clinton Avenue Methodist Church as it ripples out in waves.
It is easy for you to be a part of this message. You don’t have to move to Kingston. You don’t have to attend the church there. You don’t even have to know anyone in the area. All you need to do is give a little … or a lot … of whatever you can share.
- Sending a check always helps. Caring Hands always needs money.
- Sending a gift certificate always helps, too. Did someone give you a gift certificate that that you’ll probably never use? Well, now is a good time to use it. Send it on over.
- Extra time is extremely valuable. If you live in the area, you can be a part of this miracle when you volunteer. Your gift of presence will be greatly appreciated.
- Hold a food drive. Gifts of food are always, always needed. If you don’t live in the area, hold a food drive anyway and donate the cans and boxes of food to a food pantry in your area.
- Call an elected representative and lobby for the poor and hungry in your area. Persuade this elected official to be generous with funds for those around us who do not have everything they need to live a healthy life.
- Your prayers and kind thoughts are always welcome. Those at Caring Hands as well as at other food pantries throughout our country are working hard to bring food and love to a broken community. They need your support.
Caring Hands has a mailing address to send your check and/or gift certificates: CARING HANDS
c/o THE CLINTON AVENUE UMC
P. O. Box 1099
Kingston, New York 12402.
Thank you for reading this blog post. Hopefully you’ll share it with your favorite social media outlet.
With this blog posted article comes an apology for not having posted often enough in the past months. This doesn’t mean that I don’t care or that I’m no longer interested in hunger. To the contrary. I’m deeply involved in bringing my next book to my publisher. And, it’s about hunger in America.
Thurman Greco
Voices not Heard in the Hallway
We’re having a white Christmas in Woodstock. The tree is up on the village green!
Voices can be heard in the hallway, just like all year long.
Except:
One thing no one ever discusses in the hallway of the pantry is the past. The shoppers speak about things that happened in the past week or so but never much beyond. Whatever took place before the food pantry came into their lives just isn’t on the agenda.
As holidays approach, no one ever mentions the Thanksgivings, Christmases, Hanukkahs, Passovers, Easters they had before their lives spun out of control. No one ever mentions that there wasn’t enough money to get Passover food which isn’t available in our pantry.
No one ever asks a child what Santa is going to bring.
Thank you for reading this blog.
Please refer this article to your preferred social media network.
One thing: the reflexology book, “A Healers Handbook” by me, Thurman Greco, is finished! It will soon be available for purchase and can be bought now in the ebook version at Kindle and Nook. For you, the reader of this blog, this means that I’ll be posting much more often now.
Thurman Greco
Tara Sanders Teaches Trauma Sensitive Yoga
Many people coming to a pantry or soup kitchen have given up on their stories. They’ve lost their voices. With trauma-sensitive yoga classes, they have an opportunity to change the stories themselves. They can add new chapters.
Tara Sanders, a Woodstock based yoga instructor, is the program director in the nonprofit Exhale to Inhale.
Exhale to Inhale yoga works to empower survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault to heal through yoga. Exhale to Inhale yoga guides women through postures, breathing, and meditation. Taught in trauma-sensitive style, practitioners are enabled to ground themselves in
their bodies
their strength
their stillness.
As this happens, they connect to themselves and work toward empowerment and worthiness. This practice can be transformational for survivors of sexual abuse and domestic violence when they shed the cloak of victimhood.
This is extremely important for people working and shopping in pantries because many survivors of domestic and sexual violence are found in these communities. The influence of this trauma is great. Add to this trauma another layer of
hunger,
unemployment,
underemployment,
homelessness,
serious illnesses to include mental illness
and you have a person who is finally voiceless.
Finally, the classes are free. Many attending these classes have absolutely no money at all.
Healers and body workers have long known that when the body is traumatized, the event is stored in the muscles.
Tara teaches the classes without music. She does not touch the students to correct a posture. Lights remain on throughout the class. These sessions offer survivors an opportunity to reclaim their lives through the healing and grounding of yoga.
Tara uses the yoga classes to help her students feel safe, strong, and in the present moment. As she teaches, she is a conduit for healing, and healthful programs in our community.
Exhale to Inhale is a New York-based nonprofit offering free weekly yoga classes to survivors of domestic and sexual assault. As an introduction to our area, Tara will teach free public yoga classes on Saturdays from 11 am to noon at the Center for Creative Education, 15 Railroad Ave, in Kingston.
After June 20, Exhale to Inhale yoga will be offered free of charge to women in area shelters.
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Thurman Greco
