At my workplace, there’s a food drive underway, complete with colorful bins adorned by kids’ artwork urging us to SCARE HUNGER and contribute non-perishable items to our local food shelf.
As is my habit, I find myself admiring the donated goods as I stroll by. Why? Because I have a passion for food. It’s almost like an obsession. So, I make my rounds several times a day, taking in the impressive assortment of donations.
Wow! The parents at our school certainly have refined tastes; the bins overflow with upscale food items, a wealth of organic choices, and a departure from the usual mac and cheese and boxes of spaghetti. There’s rice pasta, artichoke hearts in seasoned oil, gluten-free crackers, olive tapenade… and yes, quinoa. I eye those bins like a cat spotting a bird.
Earlier this week, as I was passing by once again, I noticed one of the organizers in the hallway. I called over to her, “Look at all this amazing stuff!” She beamed and replied, “I know! The parents here are incredible.”
Just then, another woman walked by, smiling at us as familiar faces do. Then she casually remarked, “Too bad they won’t know what to do with most of it.”
For a moment, her words didn’t register. It was as if they hovered in the air, confusing my brain. I had to clarify. “What do you mean?” I asked, determined to confirm my understanding.
She paused, turning towards me, one hand clutching a couple of manila folders while the other rested on her hip, still smiling. “Those people won’t know what most of this is. I mean, really, quinoa?”
Yup, I had heard her correctly. “Those people.”
My last visit to the food shelf was back in February, a lifetime ago. The long-awaited child support from my ex finally came through that month, and while it wasn’t a fortune, it was just enough to shift me from relying on the food shelf to purchasing groceries. I’m thankful for that blessing.
“Those people.”
I vividly remember my first trip to the food shelf. I had driven past it countless times, summoning the courage to pull into the lot. I would whisper to myself, “I can’t do this,” and continue on to my empty fridge and bare cupboards. But desperation eventually overtook my pride.
“Those people.”
Once you muster the courage to step inside, the experience isn’t all that daunting. Sure, it doesn’t inspire spontaneous singing or high-fives, but it’s manageable. Yes, there’s that blush on your cheeks as you fill out forms, sharing your life story with strangers. You disclose how you arrived in this situation, your income, and how you allocate your finances. But eventually, you grow accustomed to the warmth in your cheeks and learn to avoid too much eye contact. Before long, you might even feel oddly comfortable at the food shelf.
“Those people.”
I discovered that food shelves are much like a treasure hunt—it’s a gamble. Some days, the shelves brim with delightful items: Annie’s Mac and Cheese, organic marinara, fresh vegetables, whole chickens in the freezer, and even Trader Joe’s Brie that’s just a day past its expiration. Other days, you’re left scrambling to meet the food weight requirement with dented cans of creamed corn and sad, spoiled produce. But when you’re in need, you can’t be too picky, right?
“Those people.”
In about 11 months, I visited the food shelf five times. I confided in only one friend about it. When I told my kids, I braced for laughter, anger, or embarrassment. Instead, they helped me quietly unpack the groceries, occasionally exclaiming “Yum!” or “Gross!” I can still recount many meals crafted from food shelf finds: oven-roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes, turkey chili, and an organic mushroom risotto that was surprisingly delicious.
“Those people.”
I wanted to confront that woman in the hallway, snatch the folders from her hands, and shake her while shouting, “YOU CLUELESS, PRETENTIOUS INDIVIDUAL! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO WALK INTO ONE OF ‘THOSE’ PLACES AND BE ONE OF ‘THOSE’ PEOPLE! YOU’VE NEVER HAD TO PUT YOUR PRIDE ASIDE AND ADMIT YOU NEED HELP! YOU’VE NEVER HAD TO HIDE TEARS FROM YOUR KIDS BECAUSE YOU WERE CLUELESS ABOUT HOW TO FEED THEM! YOU KNOW WHAT??? ‘THOSE PEOPLE’ WILL BE GRATEFUL FOR THIS FOOD. THEY’LL BE SAYING SILENT THANKS AS THEY PACK IT UP AND FEED THEIR FAMILIES. AND THEY’LL NEVER FORGET THE JOY OF SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS FOOD!!”
But instead, all I managed was, “I like quinoa.”
Her response? “Well, sure. You’re not one of those people.”
If only she knew.
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In summary, our perceptions of those in need can be misguided. The experience of relying on food shelves reveals a depth of gratitude for even the simplest items. “Those people” are not defined by their circumstances; they are resilient individuals deserving of respect and understanding.
Keyphrase: Food shelf gratitude
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