Don’t go Away. I need to talk to you.
“WE ALL KNOW ANGER. We also know how it kills our inner peace. And while most of us like the idea of forgiveness, it often seems a difficult thing to practice, especially when the source of our hurt is up close and personal.” – Mike George
“Don’t go away. I need to talk to you” the man aid in an authoritative voice as he walked toward me in the basement hallway of the Woodstock Reformed Church.
As I heard his voice, the hair on my neck began to stand up. I had just walked out of the pantry room for a moment. Stocking shelves in the pantry, I was preparing for the hungry who would be shopping soon. I’d been putting USDA canned green beans on the third shelf down from the top of a unit by a window.
“GOOD AFTERNOON, SIR. What can I do for you?”
“Well, for starters you can stop feeding all those people. Ever since you started working here, more and more people are standing in our halls. You’re feeding the unworthy hungry and I want it to stop. Right. Now.” he said with emphasis.
The man standing over me in the hall was fat, old, angry. His toes pointed outward…a sure sign to me he suffered from a backache. “I’m Ed Jabbs. I’m head of the building committee for this church and I want to see your files on the people who use this pantry.”
“I’m sorry sir. We don’t keep many files on our shoppers. We keep a journal where we record their names and number of people in each household. That’s all.”
WE’RE A PANTRY, NOT THE POLICE, I THOUGHT TO MYSELF.
“Well, you should. No one should be allowed in the pantry who isn’t on food stamps. You’re feeding people who shouldn’t be coming here to get this food. You’re feeding the unworthy hungry.”
“Just last week you gave food to a man who I know shouldn’t be fed. He’s a writer. He published a book a couple of years ago and he shouldn’t even be here. Writers make a lot of money. ”
I’d heard about Ed Jabbs. He was a story in Woodstock. He was head of the building committee, was not a pantry supporter, and was definitely not a Thurman Greco supporter. After all, I reported to the Food Bank, not him. “This man is definitely a threat to the pantry” was the thought going through my mind as he stood over me.
Forever a mystery, I had heard gossip: Some church members were afraid of him. He had once belonged to a church in Saugerties but left after some event when a few members there had had enough. He was reputed to drive an expensive car with Delaware plates, and lived in Saugerties.
Not a secret: He very definitely did not like the way the pantry in the church was being managed now.
And, he had grounds. Before 2008, the pantry served about 25 colorful characters on Thursday mornings and now with the economy in the tank, new hungry people showed up every week. Lines were getting longer and longer.
The Hunger Prevention Nutrition Assistance Program changed our nutritional guidelines to include fresh produce, 1% milk, and whole grain breads. Before the guidelines changed, shoppers got a jar of peanut butter, a box of cereal, a can of tuna fish and maybe a can of soup. Now, they received a 3-day-supply of food for everyone in the household. Fresh produce lined the walls of the pantry. Bread Alone sent over bread weekly and pet food was even available.
These changes brought not only hungry people but mountains of cardboard and, according to some church people, vermin. Some felt we were being overrun with vermin. No amount of reasoning convinced them of anything different. It didn’t matter one whit that there was not even one bug or mouse to be found in the pantry.
Meanwhile, here was this angry man staring at me and demanding to see files the State didn’t even require.
“Well, Mr. Jabbs, I can call the Food Bank and find out what files we need. However, the inspector was here only a few weeks ago, looked at all my paperwork and pronounced everything “excellent”. We’ve never done anything like this before. After all, we’re a food pantry…not the police.”
“Check into it NOW”! he said as he turned away, his toes still pointing outward. Mr. Jabbs turned and smiled at me then, displaying a mouthful of large yellow teeth.
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Peace and food for all.
Thurman Greco
The Wednesday Afternoon Farm Festival in Woodstock
In typical Woodstock fashion, the town fought over the farm festival for years before it finally happened.
FIGHTS LIKE THIS HAPPEN IN WOODSTOCK ALL THE TIME. Every community improvement takes years of fighting before it becomes a reality. And, while this entertains many people, it holds up progress.
Those years of fighting represented lost revenue for a town that really doesn’t have a lot of options for income.
Oh well, I’m getting off track here.
THE WEDNESDAY WOODSTOCK FARM FESTIVAL MEANT SOOO MUCH TO THE PANTRY.
But, not how you might think. Symbolism is important here. As people go down the path toward the pantry, they begin to lose their connection to the community. This happens mainly because they have no money to participate in activities and they’re depressed, embarrassed, sad about being broke, sick, out of a job, going through foreclosure, etc. You put in the words here.
Every situation is different, but the process is the same for the people going down the path.
So, the pantry shoppers, for the most part, didn’t have the money to participate in the farm festival.
MIGLIORELLI FARMS OFFERED A SMALL MIRACLE AT THE END OF EACH MARKET AFTERNOON. Several volunteers from the Good Neighbor Food Pantry were allowed on the grounds in the final few minutes of the market to load up a car with some of the veggies. We then took them back to the pantry and stacked them to distribute on Thursday.
WHAT A GIFT! Migliorelli Farms offered a real emotional boost to our many shoppers as well as delicious, nutritious food. Migliorelli fed the body as well as the soul.
Now, the shoppers at least had a small connection to the farm market festival.
Until…one day a member of the Farmers Market Board of Directors called me up and pulled the plug. “You can’t have any more of the produce Thurman. People are not shopping at the market because they’re waiting until Thursday to come to the pantry to get the food free.”
“HOW CAN THIS BE? The pantry shoppers don’t have the money to shop at the farm festival. Have you seen the people who shop at the pantry?” I was shocked to hear such words from a person who had never set foot in our pantry.
“Don’t even try to talk me out of this Thurman. Our Board voted on this. The Migliorelli food will be donated to an agency in Kingston. It will not be wasted. You will not get any more of the Migliorelli produce.” And, with that, she hung up.
I was stunned. I felt as if someone had hit me.
AND, IT WASN’T THE FOOD THAT DID IT. Our pantry was going to continue to have enough food. The Food Bank offered beautiful, fresh, organic produce every week, all year around. All we had to do was go up and get it. And, go get it we would. Our pantry commitment to fresh produce was serious.
The pantry shoppers, many of whom had absolutely no money at all were being denied participation in a local event that anyone could get in to…all it took was money.
Then, somehow, I’ll never know how, a miracle occurred. Someone (some people) spoke to someone (some people) and attitudes were adjusted.
WE WERE ALLOWED TO GET PRODUCE AGAIN.
I never knew how this happened. And, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that some person (people) fought for the pantry. And, they didn’t care whether anyone else knew what they did. They just wanted the produce to stay in our community. They just did whatever was necessary to get the food to the hungry. Rules were changed. Votes were changed.
FOR THAT, I’M ETERNALLY GRATEFUL.
Whoever brought about this change created a positive energy ripple effect.
Whoever brought about this change definitely made me realize that all is not lost in this world.
In spite of this, I never felt comfortable with the farm market food again. I felt each Wednesday’s gift from Migliorelli’s Farms might be the last. I held my breath as Guy drove the van over for the produce. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it return with fresh produce.
When the farmers’ market returned the next spring, I waited (quietly apprehensive) to hear words from Rick: “Thurman, Migliorelli is going to share its produce with the pantry this summer”.
Even as I heard those words, I didn’t believe them until I actually saw the produce. I always had a well formed Plan B ready in case we had to start making extra trips to Albany on Thursday morning. The need for fresh produce for our shoppers was great.
For the most part, these people were all in the process of losing so much. It was up to me to keep Thursday produce on the agenda at the pantry.
At the Reservoir Food Pantry, we are extremely proud to have Migliorelli Farms sponsor us. Our shoppers have beautiful, fresh Migliorelli vegetables every week . What a beautiful gift!
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.
ON BEHALF OF THE MANY SHOPPERS WHO USE THE PANTRY, THANK YOU FOR READING THIS BLOG/BOOK.
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Peace and food for all.
Thurman Greco
Spaghetti Sauce – That’s what it’s all about in a food pantry.
I’ve always had issues with spaghetti sauces.
MY MOTHER NEVER PREPARED A SPAGHETTI SAUCE. She cooked in the classic French manner. Her family was one of the first settlers in Texas and had one of the largest ranches in the state so beef was on the table every day. Her meals focused on extremely thick steaks, composed salads with chopped apples, raisins, nuts arranged on a bed of lettuce in the middle of a salad plate and dressed with her own specially prepared poppy seed dressing.
The steaks were always at least two to four inches thick and were cooked at least medium rare. My mother learned the cooking and nutritional rules of her day and lived by those principles until she died.
SHE NEVER TAUGHT ME TO COOK. “I want you to do other things with your life than cook. We’ve got can openers now. I’ll show you how to operate one of those when you get married.” True to her word, she did and I did.
As I set up my own kitchen right after getting married, one of the first things I taught myself to prepare was a tomato sauce to be served on spaghetti. It was easy, cheap, and just my speed.
THE RECIPE INCLUDED TWO 28-ounce cans of diced tomatoes, a 6-ounce can of tomato sauce, 1 cup water. It was seasoned with a teaspoon of dried basil, 1-1/2 teaspoons of salt, and 1/8 teaspoon of dried oregano. I put 1 clove of crushed garlic in a large pot along with 2 tablespoons olive oil and browned the garlic. Then, I added everything else and let it simmer for about 30 minutes.
I CAN’T SAY I’M A COOK. However, I can say that, like my mother before me, I lived with a set of guidelines learned about nutrition, food safety, and how to follow a simple recipe to the “t”.
YEARS LATER, my second spouse took cooking classes on Tuesday evenings at L’Academie de Cuisine in Bethesda, MD. It was glorious. He never really cooked a pasta sauce either. He finally ended up in what was for him a dream job as a vegetarian chef for Marriott and I never complained. After all, he did all the grocery shopping and cooking. What was there to complain about? Life was glorious!
MORE YEARS LATER, IN THE GOOD NEIGHBOR FOOD PANTRY, I ENCOUNTERED YET MORE ISSUES WITH SPAGHETTI SAUES. For one thing, there weren’t any. Pasta was available maybe half the time. But, the traditional jars and cans of spaghetti sauce were very difficult to find on the order list. It’s a shame too, because homeless or near-homeless people lack kitchens and to be able to open a can or jar of spaghetti sauce and heat it up in a pan over a burner or in a microwave would have been a real treat.
At one point, the USDA inventory included a low salt spaghetti sauce loaded with sugar. People took it home but we all knew that if they had diabetes, life could get complicated. This sauce certainly met the requirements for a low-salt product.
FINALLY, IN 2012, Progresso came out with a series of canned cooking sauces. And, following their policy of generous donations, they sent a huge shipment of them to the Food Bank.
HURRAY! I was able to buy these sauces for sixteen cents per pound which was well within my budget and many cans were available. And, buy them I did. One of them, Fire Roasted Tomato, appeared to be adaptable to a simple pasta sauce situation. While they were certainly not the traditional spaghetti sauces, they worked.
THAT’S REALLY WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT IN A PANTRY. We get the best fit we can based on what’s available. The shoppers take it home to wherever that is (tent, camper, room, apartment) and fake it. Welcome to the world of those who have no money for food.
Peace and food for all.
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Thurman Greco
“You Just Decided to Come to New York City, Didn’t You?”
<“Now is the time to heal.” – Father John
Father John came up to me in Maria’s one day in July, 2013. “I need food Thurman. We’ve got some Native Americans coming in next week for a Unity Ride and we’ve got everything but the food.”
Well, he came to the right place. For sure, the only thing the pantry has is food.
“What’s the deal, Father John?”
“The Unity Riders are coming through here. The Dakota Nation representatives from Manitoba, Canada came together with the Two Row Wampum Renewal Campaign to partner between the Onondaga Nation and Neighbors of the Onondaga Nation. They’re coming with horses, riders, truckers, everything. Woodstock is going to be their base camp here while they make side trips to the United Nations, Washington, D.C., and several other places.”
“How many people are we looking at?”
“I think about twelve. But I won’t know until they get here.”
“Do you have anyone to cook the food?”
“Yeah. We’ve got a place for them to stay and we’ve got a chef.”
So, we got to work. Rich Allen figured out how much food they needed and we placed an order. We got in Miriam’s Well, Rich, Prasida and I, and drove up to the Food Bank and got it. We brought it in. At the moment we pulled up, Father John and his team with Chief Gus High Eagle of the Western Dakota Nation came in: men, women, children, horses, trucks pulling horse trailers.
Everyone was impressed with the men and the horses. And, they were a beautiful sight. Only, I also saw that the horses were really tired and so were the men. Both horses and men appeared to be drained spiritually and physically exhausted. This had been a very challenging spiritual ride.
The horses experienced much stress on this trip and would continue to experience the stress because they were the messengers of this momentous journey.
Father John and his team made a base camp at the Woodstock Riding Club. They transformed a barn into a commissary with freezers, refrigerators, and shelves to store dry goods. They built a teepee and two fire pits.
I was grateful to be a part of a pantry with a mission statement open enough to allow us to serve these people.
They traveled on this ride with a unifying message: to honor the bond that exists between all living creatures sharing this planet. The goal is to support one another, heal relationships between people, heal relationships between people and living things, to appreciate the beauty of our planet, and to create an environment where we can live in peace.
While in our area, the Unity Riders made side trips to Albany, Troy, Rosendale, Kingston, Beacon, and Poughkeepsie.
The first city to welcome the riders was Syracuse. Patrice Chang organized a ceremony at Dunbar House, one of the locations of the Underground Railroad.
They also visited Connecticut. While there, the Unity Riders met with families of those killed in the school massacre. The Dakotas understood the grief of the school members, testifying to reconciliation. They came with traditional prayer ties used to honor the dead. Children of the Dakota, Lakota, and Red Lake Tribes made these prayer ties in Minnesota for the surviving school children of the school massacre in Connecticut. They presented them to the children and then took the ties, attached to the horses’ bridles, on the Unity Ride to the U.N. The Native Americans brought prayer ties so riders could carry the spirits of the massacred children with them on their ride. The horses were the messengers here. When the ride was completed in August, the ties were returned and now adorn a large horse sculpture at the Second Connecticut Horse Garden. Several of these special ties were gifted to families surviving the massacre at a ceremony.
One destination on the trip included the riders travelling across the “Walkway Over the Hudson” between Highland and Poughkeepsie. Supporters in boats paddled along the Hudson River beneath.
The Two Row Wampum Renewal Canoe Campaign is a partnership between the Onandaga Nation and Neighbors of the Onandaga Nation.
This group assembled over two hundred kayaks, canoes, boats, and began rowing down the Hudson at Troy. Led by Hickory Edwards of the Onandaga Nation, this group timed their trip so they were coming down the Hudson as the Unity Riders crossed the the Walkway with the Two Row Wampum Renewal Canoe Campaign flotilla floating down the Hudson in two rows. One row was made up of and led by Native Americans. The other row was composed of Americans from all other backgrounds.
As they crossed each other at the walkway, a huge crowd assembled for this event which nearly didn’t happen.
This is the story: Father John tried everywhere to get permission to cross on the Walkway Over the Hudson without success. Success came from a park ranger, Steven Oaks, who issued the permit. Ranger Oaks saw no reason for denying the permit. The fact that his great-great-great grandmother’s life was saved by the Dakotas helped a little, I think.
Another stop was at the United Nations on August 9 for the presentation of the International Code for Sacred Sites.
This day began with the Dakota Nation Unity Riders trucking their horses and themselves to the city. The first stop was on 59th Street in front of the Con Ed building where the trailers parked for a short time while they rendezvoused again with the Two Row Wampum Renewal Campaign on the shore of the Hudson.
After this short side trip, the Unity Riders began their NYC trek to the U.N. with special tour guides: three members of the Federation of Black Cowboys, under the direction of Curley. What amounted to an impromptu parade traveled down Third Avenue led by three black cowboys in full ceremonial dress. The second vehicle was a white Prius with Stephanie Smith inside. Thirty Dakota Nation Unity Riders on horses with all men and horses in full ceremonial dress followed.
“As they travelled down Third Avenue headed for the U.N., people stopped, traffic stopped. The entire procession took on an unreal, vision quality.” recalled Father John.
The delegation arrived at the U.N. and stayed there for six hours. Someone from the U.N. arranged for the Unity Riders and their horses to spend the day at Dag Hammarskjold Park and in front of Trump Tower.
“There was only one slight catch.” Father John related. “No permits had been applied for. Everything was a surprise in the city.” No one seemed to care.
These Dakota Nation Unity Riders came to the U.N. on a mission. They journeyed several thousand miles to unite forces for a point in time at this momentous event to bring people together to heal. This event created groundwork for things to happen in the future.
Another Unity Ride is scheduled for the fall of 2015. The main focus of this event is to strengthen the healing which began in August of 2013. Much of the activity will take place at the Connecticut State Fairgrounds and many Nations will be participating. This promises to be a true International healing peace event which never could have happened without the energy generated at the first August event in 2013.
Other rides are scheduled to occur between now and 2015. Different tribes are conducting rides throughout the seasons. To learn more, or to offer support through a donation, contact the American Indian Institute at www.twocircles.org. If you prefer, you may send a check to American Indian Institute, 502 West Mendenhall Street, Bozeman, MT 59715. Please put “Dakota Unity Ride” in the memo portion of your check.
Thank you Father John, for thinking of us. You allowed us to be a part of this historic event. And, thank you dear blog reader, for participating in this event by reading this post. Your energy, everyone’s energy is vital to the success of this endeavor.
Peace and food for all.
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Thurman Greco
.
How About Another Round?
“Why should there be hunger and deprivation in any land, in any city, at any table, when man has the resources and the scientific knowhow to provide all mankind with the basic necessities of life? There is no deficit in human resources. The deficit is in human will.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
In my quest for clarity about feeding the “unworthy hungry”, I spoke with several knowledgeable people, spent yet more time on computer searches, and read even more.
I made an appointment with the Rev. James Reisner, the minister of the Westminster Presbyterian Church in Albany, located just one block from New York State’s Capital building. I met with him one Friday afternoon on a perfect New York State autumn day. This historic old building on a tree lined street could not have looked more beautiful. The building itself has a rich heritage dating back to the early 1800’s.
The Rev. Reisner’s congregation, while housed in a building very comfortable with our past, is focused on present-day issues and community needs; not only of Albany but also the surrounding area.
Even though he didn’t know me from Adam, Pr. Reisner graciously agreed to see me. We met in the church library, a cozy, bookfilled room just inside the building entrance. He was polite, thoughtful…and very knowledgeable of the Bible. I knew within just a few minutes that I had chosen the right person for advice and information.
He listened to my questions and went to a Bible in the room and turned to 2 Thessalonians 3:10-16 and read from the passage which offered a significant shift in the dialogue.
“For even when we were with you, we commanded you this: if anyone will not work, neither shall he eat.”
Now, here was a viable argument…finally. He had me on the right track.
When I returned to Woodstock, I put notes together:
According to Dr. Grant Richison, Paul’s team taught that working for meals is a Biblical principal. the rationale was that as some Christians were waiting for the imminent return of Christ they gave up their daily pursuits: jobs. Then, when they ran out of money, they tried to sponge off their neighbors, friends, and relatives.
So, Paul was writing about those who could work but were taking advantage of the graciousness of others. Paul was pretty straightforward here. He was not talking about those who cannot find a job or people unable to work because of disability or illness.
The quotation: “For even when we were with you, we commanded you this: if anyone will not work, neither shall he eat.”
This statement isn’t hard to understand. I submit to you this statement still doesn’t apply to people in the pantry line.
It’s estimated that, in our pantry line, one child in five eats only at school.
Seniors also have problems with sufficient food. One senior in seven does not have enough to eat.
Fully 75% of the people visiting pantries are ‘food insecure’. They lack access, at times, to enough food to go about their daily lives. About one third of people shopping at pantries suffer from very low food security. Many live in rural areas or ghettos where there are no real grocery stores. Their food comes from gas station food markets, convenience stores, and pharmacy grocery shelves.
Many served by pantries experience poor health and lack access to medical care. Easily 50% of pantry shoppers have unpaid medical or hospital bills.
It’s estimated that 10% of the households visiting pantries are homeless. Many of these homeless people have jobs. They simply don’t make enough money to pay rent.
During the summer of 2010, I realized the attitudes of the Building Committee members, some other congregational representatives and volunteers were escalating. I felt pressured.
On one hand, I was trained by, evaluated by, reported to, and inspected by the Food Bank of the Hudson Valley, and the Food Bank of Northeastern New York. The people who trained me and evaluated my performance were using guidelines set down by the Hunger Prevention Nutrition Assistance Program (HPNAP). I was doing everything I was being trained to do. People were getting fed…hungry people who needed food were getting a three-day supply of food which they had to make last for seven days. Some people in the community were beginning to recognize that I was doing a good job.
In the meantime, Ed Jabbs, the chairperson of the building committee of the Woodstock Reformed Church called the Food Bank.
“I’m calling from the Woodstock Reformed Church in Woodstock. I’m calling about the Good Neighbor Food Pantry. Thurman Greco, the coordinator is bringing a lot of fresh produce into our building. We feel that the food is infested with vermin. We don’t want this food in our building. I’m on the building committee and I’m complaining about her.”
I was really in a vise. What did I need to do. Well, for one thing…I needed to get comfortable with the reality
that the town was angry. After all, if my superior at the Food Bank was happy with my performance and the people who shopped at the pantry needed the food, what else did I need to worry about?
So, I needed to do some work on myself…to become more comfortable with my situation and my reactions to wholesale community anger focused at my job performance.
I did two things. First, I scheduled a weekend at Peace Village, a local retreat house having an Anger Management class. Friends encouraged me to not attend this class but it was all I could find that even remotely dealt with my situation. The weekend was transforming. I arrived on a Friday evening in August and met fellow attendees. The class was packed, the room full.
By 8:00 that evening, I learned we were all in the same situation. We were all, without exception, trying to function in a work situation in which a very angry person was extremely unhappy with our performance. We felt that the person unhappy with our performance was being as angry and obnoxious as possible under the circumstances.
As each attendee told why s/he was at Peace Village for the weekend, I heard the same story repeated over and over. Only the setting was different.
“My supervisor at work hates me. She does everything she can to make my life miserable. I feel that I do a good job. Other people feel that I do a good job but she yells and screams at me whenever she sees me.”
“I work in a kitchen. The chef took a knife to me. I know kitchens are tough but this guy is scary.”
This weekend, taught by two very professional women, not only gave insight into our individual situations but taught us about the personality types of those unhappy with our individual performances. I learned how these personalities developed and how these people became who they were in adulthood. Knowledge is power, they say.
The second thing I did was schedule classes with Richard Genaro, an experienced teaching actor in the area. Richard teachess his techniques to corporate senior executives, community activities, actors.
Richard teaches people to cope with bullying.
Richard teaches skills which are inspirational, instructional, therapeutic.
Richard helped me dig deep to find hidden talents I could use in stressful situations in the pantry.
Richard hauled out a huge yellow bat at every class for me to pound on the furniture. He used this technique to release stress.
Whap! Whap! Whap! We could hear the sound of the bat hitting his sofa all over his neighborhood.
Richard, very professionally, never asked for funds to replace his sofa.
I learned how my anger and frustration manifested and how to deal with these emotions. I also learned I was in a good place with my job at the pantry.
“Thurman, are you getting your produce from our Food Bank?”
“Yes.”
“Our produce is very fresh and clean. Thanks, Thurman, for serving the fresh produce. Are you purchasing the HPNAP produce?”
“Yes. The shoppers love it.”
“Well, we can’t get any better than HPNAP produce. I sent Mr. Jabbs some flyers and brochures highlighting the need for fresh fruits and vegetables.”
At the end of the summer, my head was in a much better place. I had a better understanding of my job description and how I should react to the attacks.
To the outward eye, there was no real difference. However, within, I was much calmer. Each day that I didn’t hear from Ed Jabbs, I knew from my training that he was terrorizing someone else. While I was sorry for that other person’s plight, I breathed a sign of relief that I wasn’t on his list for the day anyway. In short, I was doing much better in September than I had been doing the previous June.
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Peace and food for all.
The Monthly Food Delivery at the Good Neighbor Food Pantry
“It is not necessary to advertise food to hungry people, fuel to cold people, or houses to the homeless.” – John Kenneth Galbraith
Once we began offering a three-day supply of food to every person in every household represented in the shopping line, the supply chain began to organize itself.
Usually, on the third Tuesday of every month, our shipment arrived at the Hannaford’s parking lot in the Kingston Plaza Shopping Center. We had a standing 9:15 a.m. offloading appointment.
On this day, I felt free. The best day of the month was here – Delivery Day! I spent all the week before preparing for this morning. I called the Food Bank every day last week ordering thousands of pounds of food.
Bobbie Blitzer called the delivery caravan members beginning the week before and reminded them to meet in the parking lot outside Hannaford’s.
The caravan team gathered in the parking lot of the shipment delivery day and waited for the truck from the Food Bank of Northeastern New York to offload our shipment which was packed the Friday before on its own pallets. The Food Bank truck drivers and the pantry caravan crew were a dedicated group of individuals who brought the food over every month regardless of the weather – rain, sleet, snow, ice, 100 degree heat, etc.
The empty storeroom was neatened up to receive the fresh load of food.
Now, at last, the food was on its way. I always got excited. Everything that could have been done to get ready for the shipment was done.
We’re ready! They’re coming!
In the very beginning when we first started ordering food monthly, the order weighed 2,000 pounds or so and we felt we had ordered all the food in the whole world. It wasn’t long until 10,000 to 12,000 pounds or so was expected every month. 16,000 pounds was considered a very large order.
Depending on what was in the order, it could seem to be much larger than it was. The result was that occasionally, several of the volunteers returned to Kingston a second time on delivery day.
On delivery day, the building committee allowed me to arrive at the pantry at 8 a.m. instead of the usual 9:00 a.m. Tuesday arrival. I used this time to make necessary last minute changes in the storeroom before the caravan rolled in.
The Hudson Correctional Team usually arrived a little before 9:00 in a dark green van. They went directly to the storeroom and assessed the situation.
Once the caravan rolled in, organized chaos reigned supreme. Go team!
Before coming to the pantry, I stopped at Woodstock Meats for six of their wonderful sandwiches, a large bag of potato chips, a large box of cookies, 6 apples, and a large coke for the men coming over from the Hudson Correctional facility.
Everyone agreed the room couldn’t hold 10,000 pounds of food. But what were we to do? We only got one delivery a month and we were making weekly trips for produce and Friday trips for canned goods. I gritted my teeth, ordered what I could get, and let the men shake their heads. Occasionally Mike Lourenso lost his temper over the amount of food coming in. I just took it. We needed the food. We had the line of credit for it. Experience with the Food Bank taught me that I needed to “strike while the iron was hot” if there was food I needed. Most of the Food Bank stock came from donations and nobody ever knew what next month’s food supply might offer. This was especially true of all USDA products as well as soup, peanut butter, water, bleach, diapers, toilet paper, coffee, surplus baked goods, cereal.
At one point I asked Peggy Johnson to do the ordering. She probably would have been better at this than I, but Mike got so angry at her that I took the job away from her. I couldn’t let anyone else take this anger. After all, I was the coordinator. The buck stopped at my desk.
I loved every one of the Hudson Correctional men. They stacked the food to the ceiling, performing stocking miracles every month. And, what’s more, they did it happily. The guys cheerfully loaded the food in the room until every last box was taken care of. Their correctional officer was a man I totally adored. He was good with them, good with the pantry volunteers, and good with the Anderson guys.
Regular volunteers came to the pantry on delivery day about 8:30 to help stock shelves. Nathan drove The Anderson Center for Autism van over with his crew.
The little pantry was stuffed to the rafters with volunteers stocking the shelves as quickly as possible. Bobbie Blitzer was the Delivery Day room supervisor. Regulars included Leticia when she wasn’t helping with the take outs, Tony Cannistra and Robin Dougherty in addition to people walking in to help.
Peggy Johnson came early on delivery day also. The hallway was a total disaster on delivery day because we had extra volunteers, more than 10,000 pounds of food coming down the hall and we had take out volunteers packing bags…all in the same hallway space at the same time.
While Peggy lined the walls with cardboard, put out the tables, and set the take out bags under the tables, Barry showed up with his Jeep stuffed with boxes of beautiful fresh produce, baked goods and bread from the Hurley Ridge Market. At this point, Peggy, Prasida, Jamie, Laura, Leticia, and Marvalene began packing the take out bags.
“First truck is taking off, Thurman. Expect them in 10-15 minutes.”
Music to my ears!
When I heard those words, I corralled the Hudson guys out front with carts and we waited for the caravan to arrive.
As the first truck arrived, I stationed myself just inside the door of the building.
“Put four boxes in the pantry and wheel the rest in the storeroom.”
“Thanks. Put all of this in the pantry.”
“Keep the line moving guys. Thanks. What’s in those boxes now?”
“Have we got any more room in the pantry for this?”
This banter went on for an hour or so as people jammed the hallway pushing hand carts to the storeroom and the pantry.
Volunteers stocked shelves.
Volunteers filled bags for takeout packages going to homebound households.
Volunteers broke down hundreds of boxes.
We never had an accident in all this organized chaos. Chalk that up to a continuation of miracles.
Then, about 11:00, everything came together.
The pantry would be so full that not one more can, box, or bag could be added.
The last truck carrying food over from Kingston pulled away from the pantry entrance empty, all the food offloaded and taken to the storeroom, or pantry. Frozen foods went to the freezers in the barn.
The Anderson team filled their van with takeout bags and drove away to make deliveries to homebound households.
Father Nicholas and his crew drove away with their van filled with takeout bags.
Prasida, Laura, and Guy each drove away with vehicles filled with deliveries.
The Hudson Crew got their lunch box and took off for the prison.
I took a deep breath.
It was now time to prepare for the Tuesday lunch class/meeting where I offered a meal, the latest news, and a little bit of training and encouragement to the volunteers before Peggy and her crew started packing next week’s canned goods in the take out bags.
I made a second trip to Woodstock Meats for sandwiches for the volunteers. Orders always included roast beef sandwichess (the number three special), ham and cheese, egg salad, and the Italian combo. Every sandwich came on Deising’s Kaiser rolls delivered to Woodstock Meats each morning from Kingston. The lettuce, tomatoes, and onions used all came from local farms.
Woodstock Meats was owned by members of the Christofora family. This family also owned Woodstock Hardware and the Laundromat. It’s my belief that they built the Laundromat less because they wanted to own another business than because they finally realized that if they didn’t do it no one would and then Woodstock wouldn’t have a Laundromat at all.
The Christofora family was good to many people in Woodstock. For example, when the pantry was a fledgling, they offered a sign special on the fence around the ball club. I felt our pantry needed this sign. I was in the process of getting the purchase of the sign approved by the board to meet the deadline when Jim Dougherty started leaping around that we couldn’t do it. When I told Kevin Cristofora we had to back out of the deal, he didn’t even skip a beat. He just gave the pantry a free sign and hosted us at food drives at the Little League Ball Games throughout the summer. For me, that was class.
Our pantry needed to be in the lineup on the fence for inclusion purposes. We were outsiders in the community for many of the people and this was a chance for us to be a little less outside. Kevin made it happen. (The food drives didn’t hurt one bit, either.)
Of course, all this fresh food offered delicious aromas. Woodstock Meats baked its roast beef on the premises and our noses knew the difference. The pickles on the sandwiches were all locally made as were the cheeses.
There was usually a bag of potato chips thrown in. Everyone had cold drinks except Leticia, who liked a fresh coffee from Woodstock Meats.
Sometimes we’d have a cake if someone fessed up to a birthday. When that happened, Barry went to Deising’s Bakery in Kingston and ordered a real birthday cake with raspberry filling, real butter cream frosting, and flowers to decorate the top of the cake.
As often as I took this order, I was never, never, never able to order the right amount of food. We either had a sandwich left over or people had to share.
There’s an art to ordering sandwiches from Woodstock Meats.
None of the food eaten by the volunteers in the pantry came from the Food Bank, or was donated by a grocery store or other generous donor to our pantry. Food Bank guidelines forbade such activities. I made a point of having everyone know where the food came from so there would be no question of the origin.
Besides, the best sandwiches in town came from Woodstock Meats. We didn’t have plates, glasses, fancy napkins, or chairs. But, we had the best food Woodstock had to offer. And, there’s nothing like eating in a refrigerator. In the summer, we set the air conditioner at 60, the lowest setting to keep the produce fresh. In the winter, we just didn’t have any heat.
We all ate the delicious food while I offered a few encouraging words.
“We broke an attendance record again last week.”
“They’re cutting food stamps again so more people will be coming next month.”
“We’ve got to do something about the cardboard. The building committee is really unhappy about the cardboard in the hallway. Can someone help pick up the cardboard and put it in Vanessa whenever it appears to be piling up?”
“We’re really short of items of dignity. There’s no shampoo, deodorant, or toothpaste in the closet. Peggy, can you call a church and see if you can get a drive going?”
“What food do we have in the barn?”
“We’ve got a benefit concert coming up next month. Is anyone volunteering at this event?”
“Thurman, we’ve got to start packing the take outs. Can you cut this short?”
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Peace and food for all.
This is the only post for this week. I’m spending the remainder of this week on special pantry activities. I hope to join you again with blogs on Friday.
Thurman Greco
Children in the Good Neighbor Food Pantry in Woodstock
Everything tells us that children who grow up in poverty are much more likely to be adults in poverty.” – Peter Edelman
Invisible, almost, children came with their parents to the pantry weekly for food. These children are so well behaved in the line and in the pantry. How those kids stood in line with their parents all that time every week and remained well behaved, I’ll never know.
As more and more households work more and more hours at minimum wage jobs to pay more and more money for rent, more and more families are appearing in pantry lines.
That means children. Prior to 2008, there were few to no children in the line at the Good Neighbor Food Pantry in Woodstock. “There weren’t any lines either. With the downfall of the economy, more and more children were seen in the hallways.
For the most part, these children were beautiful, alert, intelligent. They were brought by parents or grandparents to shop for a three-day supply of food which lasted seven days.
Every time I saw a child in the pantry I was grateful for the efforts our pantry volunteers made weekly to get the most nutritious food we could find and being back to our pantry. The pantry carried some cookies, cakes, and occasional bags of chips. For the most part, our food was the best we could find. Anything organic we could find was brought back to our pantry.
Every time I saw a child in the pantry I was grateful for the efforts of their parents and grandparents made weekly to bring them to get the most nutritious food available because Woodstock had no supermarket.
People bought food in Woodstock at the CVS, RiteAid Pharmacy, Cumberland Farms, and Woodstock Meats. Woodstock was also home of the famous Sunflower Natural Foods Market but many of our shoppers simply couldn’t afford the prices there. Ditto for Sunfrost. Technically, Woodstock, New York, is a grocery store desert. The nearest grocery store is Hurley Ridge Market, an IGA, located seven miles out on Rte 375 in the community of West Hurley. There is no sidewalk to this store. A Price Chopper is eleven miles away in Saugerties on Route 212.
One household with children came to the pantry weekly with their parents. This household was a household of volunteers. They shopped at the pantry, too. When the pantry was open, Robert and Mikey were there with their parents Richard and Jamie Allen.
Richard stood outside the building as the pantry was opening.
Richard carefully watched the parking lot to keep the chaos down.
Richard managed the hallway.
Richard totally knew the stock in the storeroom.
Richard made sure everyone shopping at the pantry had help getting their food to their cars.
Richard made friends with everyone in the shopper line.
Richard walked down to the barn several times each afternoon when the pantry was open.
Richard stood in the pantry room when the shopping line was overcrowded.
Richard was always on the lookout for anything which might upset the flow of the people into the pantry.
Richard taught Robert to help out in the pantry.
Richard taught Robert to break down the used cardboard boxes.
Richard and Robert did their best to keep the cardboard out of sight.
Richard taught Robert to help out in the barn.
Richard taught Robert to haul groceries out to the shoppers’ cars.
Richard taught Robert to get the handcart ready for the food when a large household came shopping so there wouldn’t be so much heavy lifting.
Richard didn’t teach Robert to climb to the top shelves in the storeroom to retrieve much needed items. Robert learned that on his own.
Robert, 10, loved food…any kind of food. Whenever Robert wasn’t otherwise occupied helping out in the pantry, breaking down cardboard boxes, helping his dad in the storeroom, the barn or the parking lot, he liked to come to the pantry room and eat anything that didn’t eat him first…raw. I always felt Robert is destined to be a chef someday.
Little Mikey, 5, was never unhappy or trying to get into trouble. Mikey wanted nothing more than to help out in any way possible. Of course, being 5, Mikey invented ways to help if we didn’t give him direction. All in all, he was a gift to the pantry, smiling and greeting everyone who came. For many, this was transformational. Mikey was therapy.
Everyone at the pantry smiled when the Allens showed up to volunteer. They had their own little caravan going. Rich drove in with Robert riding shot gun. They had a bright chartreuse repurposed ambulance which still had the sirens.
Jamie drove a 22-year-old red Ford pickup with a black camper top which Richard and Robert kept going.
Jamie helped assemble the food for the take out bags.
Jamie helped pack the take out bags.
Jamie helped in the hallway.
Jamie assisted the older and infirm shoppers.
Jamie was loved by everyone.
Children are important in a pantry. For one thing, there are many malnourished children needing the food offered by pantries. It’s estimated that 75% of the people shopping at pantries are food insecure which means they don’t have enough food to eat on a regular basis.
It’s also estimated that 25% of the people receiving food at pantries are children. Malnourished children experience more learning difficulties and more illnesses. Hungry children have a difficult time learning. They get sick more often than their well nourished classmates.
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Peace and food for all.
Thurman Greco
What Goes Up Sometimes Goes Down!!!!
Ron Van Warmer told us today: “The new statistics on elder hunger are now one in seven.”
I rejoiced! Ron, Associate Director of the Food Bank of the Hudson Valley, was sharing the latest results of the 2012 Feeding America survey. The 2010 survey (in which I participated) reported the statistics at one in five. The new information tells me fewer seniors are going to bed at night hungry than in the past.
Many people go to bed hungry at night these days but the elder hungry are a true tragedy. As a group, most retired citizens in our nation spent their lives working and paying taxes. Now that their incomes are limited and their expenses are not, they no longer have the money for food. They’re finding themselves, just like younger people in the new Struggling Class, choosing between food and gas, food and medicine, food and heating bills.
Seniors, as a group, are loathe to ask for food stamps or go to food pantries. They don’t see the pantry food given to them for what it is – our tax dollars at work. They overlook the fact that all the produce is diverted from a landfill. Most of the diverted produce in our area is both organic and gorgeous as well.
Instead, they see themselves as poor planners unable to care for themselves in their old age. They don’t take into account that the rules have drastically changed since 2008. Many senior citizens are afraid to ask for help getting SNAP or finding a pantry because they’re afraid that if someone finds out they don’t have enough food, they’ll end up in an assisted living center or nursing home.
Several weeks ago Sara called me from an apartment complex located in the forest off Route 28 in Ulster County. “Thurman, I want to thank all of you at the Reservoir Food Pantry for delivering food to us out here weekly. We’re miles from a grocery store or pharmacy and without your deliveries many of us would go hungry. In fact, recently, Mary was going hungry. I found out last month that she was completely out of food because she spent her food budget money on a birthday gift for a grandchild.
Thurman, I got myself in my scooter and rode from apartment to apartment asking for food from all the residents for her so she wouldn’t be hungry.”
This story really sends a message. When you realize that the woman telling me the story of how she went from apartment to apartment had lost both legs at the hip and one arm at the elbow. Her efforts to get food for a neighbor were astounding considering her obstacles.
When they finally reach the point where they can’t buy food anymore, seniors run a risk of getting sick which puts an additional burden on the children and grandchildren who will have to care for them. I know I don’t want to put this burden on my children. I feel that I’m not alone with this attitude. Food pantries are there for the hungry. Elderly poor are loathe to visit them. Instead of seeing a pantry for what it is: their tax dollars at work, they see only the shame of it all. Pantries are still taboo in our country. So, rather than experience the shame, they go without food.
Most pantries offer a three-day supply of food. Many offer fresh, organic produce, fresh dairy products, and freshly baked breads.
Hunger in America is a true hidden tragedy. No one in this great nation of ours should go hungry. When people, older people, experience living without sufficient food, it’s a crime.
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Peace and food for all.
Thurman Greco
Reservoir Food Pantry – Then and Now
One thing about our pantry that makes us different is that we’re feeding people on a weekly basis ” – Deborah Nigrelli
I walked through the torn plastic curtain covering the entrance to the produce room exactly at 10:30 last Monday morning, just like always.
Except, it wasn’t like always. We hadn’t shopped for produce at the Food Bank in six months.
We parked the van in a slot, raced over to the edge of the Food Bank building and grabbed the only metal flat bed cart available – a 3′ x 5′ wheeled platform to hold all the precious cargo we hoped to find here.
For a few moments, it felt as if we’d shifted into another dimension. Everything looked the same – but it wasn’t. It was as if someone had built a theater set of the Food Bank produce room to trick or fool us. My knee jerk reaction was to ask myself “Where am I…?” Fifty or so years ago, I would have said that I had dipped into the Twilight Zone. But, we don’t say that anymore and I don’t know what people say now anyway.
Then, reality hit. This was the same place with six hard months of wear and tear later. The produce area had simply been “rode hard and put up wet” as my grandmother used to say.
Even the produce cart wasn’t right. It had seriously aged in the last six months. Two wooden slats were missing and one wheel appeared to be about to fall off. We wheeled it over to the produce area. Even though the distance was less than fifteen feet, we doubted the cart would make it. As soon as we got the cart to the produce, we got excited.
Smells waked up our noses: pineapple, oranges, lemons, limes, bananas, onions, tomatoes, asparagus, spinach, lettuce, potatoes, onions, eggplant, broccoli, bread, cakes. We piled it all on the cart as quickly as possible before one of the younger, faster, stronger pantry volunteer shoppers crowded in the room could swoop down and grab all the precious food before us.
It can happen. It has happened. More than once.
“Hey Thurman, look at those pineapples! How many should we get?” she asked as she loaded food onto the cart as fast as she could get her hands on the boxes.
“Listen grab all those carrots. They’re organic.” As I spoke those words, I hefted the 100-lb bag onto the cart.
“Well, look at the apples. They’re organic too.” On the cart went three cases. And, on and on it went. We walked down the line.
In truth, most of the food is organic. It’s also “past its prime” so it’s donated to the Food Bank. Everything given to the Food Bank has been left on the shelves at the super market because it was too old, too big, too small, bruised, misshapen, and left on the shelves at the super market.
In truth, it’s all diverted to the Food Bank on its way to the the landfill.
In truth, I have much in common with this produce. I’m too old, too misshapen, too big, and I’ve been passed by a a few or so times in my life…especially in the recent past.
Shopping here today was like seeing an old friend after a long absence. “Wow. She’s aged. Wow. We’ve all aged.”
For a moment I felt myself aging.
For a moment, I saw myself for what I am – an aging crone accompanied by a retired Woodstock herbalist turned Hindu (Amma) devotee – struggling to lift case after case of food that I shouldn’t lift. But, who else was there?
This haul was some kind of miracle (they all are, actually.) We loaded all this precious food along with cases of cereal, whole wheat pasta, canned green beans, and canned fruit cocktail in the hold of Vanessa, an also aging Dodge Grand Caravan, and returned to Boiceville. We arrived just in time to set up our tables in front of the Wastewater Treatment Plant before the first shoppers arrived.
They trickled up, slowly, some a little hesitant, trying to figure out how to act at a food pantry. Soon, people were visiting, chatting, getting to know one another over apples, asparagus, onions.
In a pantry, we feed alcoholics, artists, child abusers, children, colorful characters, crazies, the disabled, druggies, drunks, elderly men and women, hardworking people juggling two and three jobs, homeless, mentally ill, messed-up people, musicians, normal people, people battling terminal illness, politicians, schizophrenics, thieves, veterans, writers, and volunteers.
Today was a little different from other Mondays, however. We doubled our numbers this week.
This event could have “thrown” other volunteers, just as the appearance of the Food Bank “threw” me earlier in the morning. But, not this crowd. Because all of us working at the Reservoir Food Pantry are experienced, we just went into expansion mode. Before 3:00, we were discussing where we’re going to put the new shelves we’re buying and what specifications our next truck is going to have.
Because, we all know one thing: census numbers rise in a pantry. They don’t go down. The Boiceville area has needed a pantry for awhile so we’re prepared to expand to meet the demand created by the increasing number of shoppers.
Our job is to make sure that we get enough food on our Monday morning trips to Latham…no matter what
Peace and food for all.
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Thurman Greco
