Food Drives, and Then Some

It's been one hell of a day, and I am exhausted. We were due to pick up food at Becki's school at 11AM. After that we had two others schools to pick up from. Earlier in the week Bill took a call from our friend, George. She wanted me to pick up gift cards from a local church. While he had her on the line, he told her, "We're getting old here. We can't do this on our own anymore. Please try to get us some help on Wednesday."
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Today as we're walking out the door to get to the High School, Cal pulled up. "I should be at the middle school by 12:30," he said. "Anything else?" I explained our schedule and I'm glad I did.
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We pulled up to the side door by the High School were I met Sgt. L. from ROTC. He brought me to the front of the class, and ordered Ed and Pele to take chairs at the by the door. Then he explained who I was and why I was there, even telling them that I was Becki's Mom. Then he asked me to speak. I told the kids, we are an organization that helps families through emergency situations. If someone breaks their leg, falls sick, or is out of work, we're there. Under these situations, the Government can't help. They aren't equipped to act quickly enough. I explained that the second food drive ROTC will be conducting will go to our local pantries. It is our goal to collect as much food as we can. After we finish with our clients, we split our remaining food between our local Salvation Army outlet and St. Vincent DePaul Society pantry. We do this intentionally and we push as hard for this as we do for ourselves. I told them, donations dry up after Christmas. Hunger doesn't. It is our goal to help out all winter long if possible. I said, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." I also explained that even though Becki is not in this class, there is a member of our organization in the class. Mel, one of Becki's closest friends, and who lives kitty corner from us, was right there. I recognized Mel and she smiled hugely.
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What surprised me was there were six partially packed boxes, and a ton of canned goods stacked up against the wall. I'm used to walking into a school and having everything boxed. Anyway, Sgt. L. instructed Ed and Pele to tell the kids what they wanted them to do. Then he ordered the kids to take 4 cans to the van at a time. I literally thought I'd be there all freakin' day. Sgt. L. must have realized that because he reorganized on the spot. We were out of there within a few minutes. We were so overloaded that Bill avoided every railroad track he could. In this town, that's almost impossible, with the only exception of heading north into Chicago. We were headed south. Very, very slowly.
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We dropped the load at the warehouse with just enough time to meet our help at the first middle school. A secretary told me the other guy took two boxes to his truck. He wanted to know where the rest of his party was. We drove around the school and couldn't find anyone. Then we went home to drop off Pele. He was to pick up Becki and her friends who got out at 1PM. I called George. Her cousin, Jimmy, was waiting outside of the school for us still. So we caught up with him. He didn't have any food. That made me wonder what happened to Cal. And with 2 boxes, I mean did I need two more people? Would this embarrass me because I had all this help and not enough food? Silly girl. We caught up to Cal at the last school. Bill and I stood there in awe as Ed, Jimmy and kids from the school overloaded all three vehicles. Un-freakin'-believable.
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We pulled up outside the warehouse, where Becki, Pele, Matt, Mel and Kat were waiting with a hand jack, a pallet and a couple of carts. They unloaded all three vehicles in a blink, and then the kids took it all upstairs to sort. They worked, all 6 of them, with only a break for Sliders, for 4 solid hours.
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What wasn't so good was that Bill was complaining about heartburn. He wanted to go home and rest. I made him stop at the bakery first. You know I didn't have time to make homemade pies. (I make crappy pies.) We got home, and he went in and threw up. I made him as comfortable as I could, and lunch, and coffee, and I waited until I was sure he was situated. Thankfully Jon made it home just a little earlier. Bill had such a bad summer, and with his diabetes as it is, it takes a long time to come out of any illness. I wasn't comfortable with him coming with us earlier, but thought maybe it was good he got out. He over did it. He feels much better tonight.
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I had to cover City Council last night. It was announced that the South Suburban Council of Mayors ordered all cities, towns and villages to put together a list of infrastructure projects that are ready to go now. This is a joint initiative put together by President elect Obama and President Bush with the intention of putting people back to work and strengthening the economy. And the list was due to be turned in last Thursday. I am excited. My City came up with a list of projects they estimate to cost about $38,000,000. I hope this goes into effect quickly, and I hope it is very successful. I am thrilled someone is finally using their FREAKIN' common sense!
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Okay, so Happy Thanksgiving!

My Angel Group, My Uncle A., and Other Things

As I said in my last post, I am working by butt off. I did not mail out the usual letters to my regular schools asking for food drives this year. It didn't matter. I have three I have to pick up on Wednesday. I picked up cans from Becki's former middle school last week. The sponsor told me that she wanted to keep it running until Wednesday, and that she didn't have enough boxes to transport what she had then. I took some and left the rest. Another middle school in the district has over 2400 pieces for me. And Becki tells me that Gunnery Sgt. L. can't move desks anymore because the collection in ROTC has grown substantially. Two girls in her class competed amongst themselves. They brought in bags full. I still have another teacher at Becki's present school to contact. The AACA, or African American Cultural Awareness Club, is conducting a food drive as well. I can't even begin to explain the churches that are calling me. It is overwhelming.
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I am happy to report that we opened the warehouse early. We have the same spaces as last year. Rather than one large room where we constantly get in each others' way, we have 2 small rooms. One is for food and one is for clothing, toys, Christmas presents, housewares and the like.
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We had the most wonderful time on Saturday night. My brother and sister-in-law celebrated 50 years of marriage. They threw themselves a party at a local country club. We had fillet mignon, chicken and other things.
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More than that, we had great company. I'm sorry, but I hate assigned seating. I know people go to great lengths to make up place cards and to seat people exactly right. I have a very hard time getting to know people and my SIL is very bad at introductions. This time, however, she placed Bill, Ed, Becki and I at the same table with two cousins and my Uncle. Jon and Gloria sat with two other couples. They made themselves comfortable. They have better people skills than I do.
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My cousin, MK, and I used to celebrate our birthdays together. Her's is the 26th and mine is the 24th. We were very close. With age, though, we didn't keep up as we should have. Her brother, B., brought my Uncle. B. is recovering from a serious illness, so I was very happy to see him.
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Now my Uncle A. is one of those wonderful people who are so full of stories. He's my Mom's brother, and he is the last of his generation. I want so badly to get out to his home and interview him. I'm so scared that all those things from the past will be lost if I don't. During dinner he told us about a trip to California he took with my Uncle John, my Great Uncle Jerry in the 30's. They traveled along old Route 66, and it took them 2 weeks. They camped at the side of the road and at one point worked for money to buy gas. He talked about vehicle problems and the like. He also talked about the others. My two other Uncles were on my Dad's side. My Great Uncle served in WWI, where he had been gassed. There is no one alive now who remembers him outside of my Uncle A.
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The last time I saw my Uncle A was at my niece's wedding last October. Then he told us about serving in the Coast Guard in WWII. He told me honestly, and I give him credit for being honest, that he joined the Coast Guard because he didn't want to die. But just like everyone else, he was expected to serve somewhere. With the Coast Guard he was part of the first contingent of Americans to enter Nagasaki after the bomb was dropped. He helped search for wounded. Maybe because I am looking back over a filter of sixty plus years, I wonder how he did it. I think I'd rather face the bullets than radiation poisoning. I don't think anyone realized just how many survivors would later die of cancer. It amazes me that he has never suffered from it. I have photos he took, although there's no way to download them.
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He also spent time in the Civilian Conservation Corp. which was a New Deal organization designed to put vagrant young men to work during the Depression. It was a quasi-military group sponsored by the Government. Uncle A told us how he was first sent to Wisconsin to help plant forests. He said that he had a bag with baby trees in it. He and his comrades in arms walked side by side, a few feet apart, and planted these babies in nice, tight rows. When they finished with planting this forest, he was sent to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I'm not sure what his duties were there.
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He told us how he visited with his Mother's family while stationed in the Upper Peninsula. She had come to Chicago to work at the turn of the last century. That's when she met and married my Dutch Grandfather. Not a good marriage by any means. My Uncle said her family remembered her even though 30 years had passed. Her people were Metzi. I think I spelled that right. That's a mixture of French and Native Americans from the very earliest time when white people settled here. The tribe is the Menominee and they are still living on reservations in Northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula. Needless to say I have a lot to pick from his brain before he passes.
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That leads me into something else. Again, I wish I had a scanner. Above is a photo of a photo. Before my Mom gave up living on her own, she asked each of us to go through the photos she had collected over the years and take what we wanted. I'm the last of 4, so I went last. I don't know how my brothers and sister missed this one. That's my Mom and Uncle A. from circa 1925. It was fashionable to take professional shots of children on or around ponies at the time. When my Mom passed, Uncle A. said that someone must have this particular photo and it was a shame not to show it. I was afraid of losing it.
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When the anniversary invitation came, this photo came to mind. I had it reproduced and framed for my brother and sister-in-law. I also gave copies to my other brother and to my sister, as well as three to my Uncle. My Uncle swore he never saw it before, and even claimed not to know who the pair were. My Mom and Uncle A. are so recognizable in this photo. The original photo is much more clear than the one above is. We put the framed copy on the table next to the wedding photo. Everyone who passed the table took a good look at it.
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I'm sorry I don't have photos to share of dinner. Mike is a very demanding cat. When he wants out he climbs up onto my desk and walks across it, right in front of the screen. One night I was working and didn't want to be bothered with him. He'd climb up and I'd set him on the ground. And he'd climb up again. After a few times he started kicking things off my desk. He was going to show me. When he wanted out, I should jump up immediately and open the door. I wasn't having it. I changed my mind when he kicked my camera, my beautiful, wonderful Christmas present from my kids from last year, right out from under my hand. It bounced off the floor and broke. I made sure Mike got out then. I just wonder who let him in again.
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And speaking of breaking things. Now that I got a brand spanking, new washer, my dryer bit the dust. I'm washing one load at a time and hanging everything to dry over a drying rack, and from cabinet doors, over the bread rack and freezer, over chairs, and doors, and the shower doors even. I have clothes all over the place. But thankfully, they are clean. I will make myself live like this for a couple more months. I have crap to pay off before I buy another one.
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Anyone notice the price of gas? My dear God! I put $20 in my tank the other day and nearly filled it up. It wasn't until later when I passed the same gas station that I noticed the price. I almost got in an accident! I was so surprised! It was $1.97 a gallon. And it's dropped since then! And they're saying that deflation is a bad thing? Not when gas drops to under $2 a gallon for the first time in over a year. I can deal with this.

What Good Friends Are Made Of

You want to hear something absolutely wonderful? One of Ed's friend is a young lady by the name of Yellow. (Okay, so it isn't yellow. Use your imagination and you'll come up with the name.) She's a chef. She and my boys attended grammar school and high school together, and has stayed close since. She is a year younger than Ed and a year older than Jon. She, her sister, and her various boyfriends (one at at time), have participated in our backyard parties on Summer Saturdays. She's a very nice girl.
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Anyway, someone told her about Pizza. We have yet to figure out who. But just because she knew how we felt about her, and the fact that she fell in love with our girl, too, she brought us a gift. She made us a big thing of homemade cream of bacon and potato soup. It was wonderful.

Another Update

Sorry, I haven't been around. I hate to admit this, but truthfully, I've been really down in the dumps. And now, I can't remember why. Oh well. On with life.
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Halloween came and went, and when I tried to download at least some of the entries I made on AOL, my computer froze up. The next day was the 31st. I thought possibly that the blogs would close at midnight. Yeah, they did. The night before. So I lost almost everything. Becki's art teacher told me that one of her college professors told her to break her best piece. That way she won't hold back thinking she can't do any better. Okay, so for no better reason than I can recreate entries or write better ones as time goes on, I won't despair.
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Now to update everyone on my family. As I said in my last entry, the first quarter is over. I did Parents/Teachers conferences and I got Becki's report card. She was told by the administrator at her college that if she is going to attend next year, it will be because she maintains a C average throughout the rest of her high school career. I explained that to her at the beginning of the year. She promised me she'd keep her work up. So here I am at Parent/Teachers conferences, ready to peek at her grades, and almost convinced all was for naught. I open her report card, and there it was. One A in ROTC, and solid C's. Talk about following directions. Whew.
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Becki's birthday is at the beginning of November, and so is Gloria's. In fact they share the same birthday. As odd as it seems whomever Ed or Jon date share Becki's birthday or has it within a day or two of Becki's. Anyway, last weekend, my daughter should have had a great weekend. On Friday, we all joined C&D, Becki's Godparents, at a new Italian restaurant. The food is outstanding. We shared a cake I bought at the bakery I used to work for, and the girls opened presents.
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The restaurant owner cut the cake. It's called an atomic cake, with one layer each of white, chocolate and banana cake, whipped cream frosting, and with a layer each of fresh strawberries and bananas filling. It's richer than I can stand, but that's what Becki wanted. Everyone was somewhat flabbergasted when the owner wanted to know if he could try a piece. Sure, why not? If he didn't take it, I'd have to take it home and you know Bill would get at it. After trying it, he then wanted to know where I got it. I told him, and told him also to tell them Jude sent him. He said he would and then promised to take a penny jar from me.
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Becki's friends threw her a party on Saturday, and on Sunday we were invited to Gloria's for dinner. This was the first time we met Gloria's parents. We were invited before, but when Jon said that a lot of her family would be there, we thought we would be intruding. No, this time we were more strongly invited. According to Jon, Gloria's Mom, Marie, cooks every Sunday, and usually serves a crowd. This is how she likes to spend Sunday. So when I bought the cake, I picked up 20 hand dipped chocolate covered strawberries. (I love chocolate, and hate strawberries.) I found out later that Marie does not allow those who visit for the first time to bring anything. Well we got to the door, I handed her the box. "Sorry," I said, "I bought these before I knew about your rule about newcomers not bringing anything, and I'm not taking them back." When I told her what they were I thought maybe she'd hide in the bathroom and inhale them. (Only teasing.) She loves strawberries, and apparently so did everyone else there.
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I was surprised to see Jon's friends, Eric and Arthur, as well as a couple of the girls that spent their Saturday nights in our yard. We met Gloria's grandparents and a couple of uncles.
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Now dinner at Marie's is a study in absolute organization. She could shame the Marine Corp. If she says be there at 2, don't dare be late. Marie had all the furniture in her living room removed. In place of the sofa, tables and chairs, she had long dinner tables and chairs set up. We were ordered to find our name tags and sit. Each place setting had a plate, fork and a napkin. That was all we got and all we needed. Once Marie was ready, she ordered us into the kitchen to help ourselves to snacks. I took my plate and got some for Bill and I. When we finished that, the plates were collected by Gloria's brother, we said Grace and dinner was served on the same plate. We had roasted garlic stuffed shells. (It was wonderful, but I can still taste garlic.) We ate, we were given drinks (Marie found out what we drank beforehand), plates were collected again and we were given a choice of cheese cake, red velvet cake and double chocolate cake. Before they came out, we sang happy birthday first to Gloria and then to Becki.
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The only thing I will say about this experience other than it was completely orchestrated, is that these people are louder than I am. And I am loud. I am very loud. I tried to carry on a conversation with Gloria's Grandmother and her neighbor, but we either had to wait until some of the noise passed or we shouted. Once it was all over and the cake consumed, Gloria's brother and sister cleaned the living room, striping the table and trashing the cake plates, and then stacked the chairs and took down the tables. Not ten minutes later, the dishes were done and the furniture was replaced. And suddenly all the adults went home. Bill and I were the last ones standing there. We were astounded. I mean we had a really good time, it's just I had never seen anything that organized in my life. I could only imagine what Marie would think of my mess.
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I asked Becki how her weekend was. She said, "It was the worst birthday I ever had."
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"How could you say something like that? Didn't you have fun at Gloria's? Or with your friends?
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"My cat died."
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Yes, Pizza died on Sunday. It's still hard to say and hard to think of without tearing up. I miss my baby. We all do. She was the sweetest, most loving and most even tempered cat I have ever known. Sunday morning Jon was helping at Gloria's to set everything up. When I called him to tell him about Pizza, he hurried home. The four of us, Ed, Jon, Becki and I, just clutched each other and cried.
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So we're right in the middle of Christmas season, and here it is not even Thanksgiving yet. I went before City Council a few weeks ago and spoke about our Angel group. It was crowded that night and there were TV cameras. I said that we would need help this year more than ever just because of the economy. With joblessness on the rise more families than ever would need help this year. I expected to received less this year than last, and last year was bad.
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Since then I have been receiving phone calls, both people looking for help and from people who want to help. Way back in August I went to Meet the Teachers Night at Becki's school. Her ROTC instructor, Sgt. L., cornered me. "We want to help. Write me a letter and tell me what you need." I did. I said I need food and lots of it. At Parents/Teachers Conferences, he told me that he and Sgt. K. were going to get the kids together on 2 food drives, one for Thanksgiving, and the other for Christmas. I expected a couple of cans here and there. Becki tells me that Sgt. L. has turned this into a competition between classes. Each child in the winning class will get chocolate as a reward. She tells me that the food is almost overwhelming at this point, it is climbing the walls.
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At the last City Council meeting, our Clerk told me their donations were getting out of hand. So the boys and I picked it all up today. The van is full. We had food, and outerwear. Someone left a baby layette, including a yellow and green quilt and pillow, matching crocheted sweater set and clothing. It was all in a nice plastic bag. That is until I got to the van with it in hand. The plastic bag broke and it all fell in the street. It's been drizzling for 2 days. I was heart sick.
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I passed out penny jars to local businesses today , and I stopped at the Library. The new director, who is the son of a former alderman, agreed to sponsor a food drive. My friend, Debby, is organizing it. Because of the economy, there are a lot of kids and adults alike who can't afford late fees. They've decided that for each can or boxed good, or for every 4 packs of Rahman noodles, brought in, $1 would be knocked off late fees, or a voucher would be issued for the next late fees.
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When Debby told her boss my name, he asked me if I knew Ed. Apparently he teaches at U.C.L.A. (University Closest to LaGrange Avenue) and Ed has him for College 101. I should have mentioned that Ed also attended Boy Scouts with his little brother and his cousin. Didn't think of it then. The director's father, though, has helped us out quite a bit over the years.
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Needless to say, I am in awe. There are so many reaching out to us. The only drawback so far, other than the layette, was that another friend bought me twenty pairs of stretch gloves. I put them in the van and left them there. I figured I'd lose them in the house, or forget about them altogether. Last week Becki went out to the van first thing in the morning. She found the driver's seat flat, and cigarette ashes all over the middle seat. (I refuse to lock it. It's a '94. God only knows if I can unlock it again.) She said that flumes of fresh smoke wafted out the door when she opened it. Considering none of us smoke, we decided that a homeless person must have spent the night there. And now I can't find those gloves. I wonder if he didn't take them, keep a pair or two and pass the rest out. I mentioned it to George. She said just what I expected. "Stolen or not, they got to someone who needed them." Okay, so they were meant to keep someone's hands warm who couldn't afford to buy them for themselves. How can I get angry?
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I won't be around as much as I'd like at this point just simply because of the season. I'll be working harder and longer this year. We have lots of donations now, but whether we can hang onto this level of participation is the question. So if I don't get on before the holidays, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
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Pizza, July 28, 1994, to November 9, 2008
We love you, and we miss you, my beautiful lady