Full Moon at the Food Pantry

 

Not good. 

Yesterday was a zoo.  For every client who showed up with photo ID, who understood the rules (once a month only), and was appreciative, there was one who was loaded for bear, insistent,  and demanding.

We had a client just released from the hospital with a concussion, amply medicated. He was very loud, slightly disoriented, and planned to ride home on a bicycle with two bags of groceries in a cardboard box.

Another, an elderly Chinese lady, spoke very broken English, seemed starved for company, and tried to tell us her life story (had been a midwife in China for 35 years).  She also had self-described early Alzheimer's Disease.

One lady and I went mano a mano over a loaf of bread--one only, please, due to there being lots of hungry people and limited bread.

You get the drift.

At the end of the day I came home and reached for the remote.  I needed Judge Judy!  And there she was with her gavel, sternly telling people off, bringing order.   The closest I came to that yesterday was pointing and snapping my fingers at an elderly couple trying to make off with two full grocery bags of bread.

A luxury

Sometimes I try to imagine myself standing in line for food that someone else chooses for me.  At a place that has rules about how often I can come.  I hope I would be gracious and appreciative, but who knows.  It's crowded, sometimes loud, and often I can't have milk or peanut butter or eggs,  or even cereal for my kids.

It'd be exasperating.   And humbling.

And then there's the full moon...