Look Mom, we get to eat today!
This one could be long.
It could also be ugly. I've been mulling this entry over for more than 2 weeks now, and I can't seem to settle on how I want to portray it. I want to keep the focus on the incident, and a little boy involved. But I see so much of myself in that little boy, and I have this overwhelming urge to dominate this entry with my own experience. But now it's 3:16 on a Monday morning, and I've started at the end, instead of the beginning.
It's Thanksgiving day. A couple of people are at work (they work in an emergency room, and their mean boss scheduled them for this day). We'll call them Sam and Rita. Sam gets to register a woman and her 4 year old son. They are here to get medical clearance in order to stay at the Salvation Army shelter that evening. Sam gets to hear this family's tale about moving across the country in a car that is not all that road worthy. It broke down and they spent their remaining cash for the month getting the car fixed enough so they could make it here. They had hoped to spend last night at the shelter but were denied since they didn't have medical clearance. So they spent last night in their vehicle, and were here in the hospital today, on Thanksgiving, trying to get that clearance in order to spend tonight at the shelter, and perhaps share in their Thanksgiving meal.
Sam is moved by their plight, and suspects that they have not eaten well the past few days. So Sam enlists the help of his associate Rita, and they go down to the cafeteria. Being Thanksgiving day the hospital is offering free Thanksgiving meals to everyone who is lucky enough to work there that day. Sam and Rita each make a plate, full of portions of Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing, and bring these plates up to the waiting room as a Thanksgiving gift to the woman and her son. They even go so far as to escort them out to a pleasant patio in another part of the hospital to further enjoy their meal.
The four year old boy sees the food and lights up like he's just received a Christmas present. He turns to his mother with a bright smile in his face saying, "Look mom, we get to eat today!" His mother is moved to tears, and apologizes for crying over something as simple as food, and hopes she hasn't embarrassed Sam. Sam does the best he can to reassure them, and wishes them well on their journey, and a Happy Thanksgiving.
So this 'hypothetical' event has been bugging the heck out of me for a couple weeks now, and I'm not really certain as to why. I know that I know how that little boy felt. There was a period of time in my life when food was scarce, and while I have very little recollection of most of the events in that period, I can distinctly recall what hunger is like. The dull ache at the pit of the stomach eventually goes away if you ignore it long enough, but you can't do much. I remember not being able to finish games of kickball, and getting lightheaded, or being completely exhausted after playing only a little bit of soccer, while the rest of the kids played on. I remember my father going hunting for rabbits, and I even joined him on one trip (unsuccessfully). I remember the first time I ever tasted white bread was when the Food Bank sent us a box of food. I remember the long line of people waiting for government subsidized cheese.
I don't dwell on these memories very often, hearing about this little boy has changed that. I've never even met him, so I don't know what he looks like, but I can vividly picture his face lighting up with pleasure and hope at the prospect of being able to eat today. Perhaps I am seeing myself 27 years ago, when my grandmother would make quesadillas, or my mother would cook rabbit. I'm not certain yet what it is, but I can't seem to put that picture out of my mind.
Perhaps putting this down here will help (that's what a blog is for after all). I feel that there is more to this tale, like another chapter that I haven't read yet, but I can't get to the book. I hope there is some resolution this story, and that it has a happy ending. Life has no guarantees of course, but sometimes we are able to make our own stories, or own destinies, our own lives.
I hope that inspite of all that seems to be stacked against this little boy, he is able to forge happy ending for himself.
I hope his angels continue to work overtime for him, through people like Sam and Rita.
It could also be ugly. I've been mulling this entry over for more than 2 weeks now, and I can't seem to settle on how I want to portray it. I want to keep the focus on the incident, and a little boy involved. But I see so much of myself in that little boy, and I have this overwhelming urge to dominate this entry with my own experience. But now it's 3:16 on a Monday morning, and I've started at the end, instead of the beginning.
It's Thanksgiving day. A couple of people are at work (they work in an emergency room, and their mean boss scheduled them for this day). We'll call them Sam and Rita. Sam gets to register a woman and her 4 year old son. They are here to get medical clearance in order to stay at the Salvation Army shelter that evening. Sam gets to hear this family's tale about moving across the country in a car that is not all that road worthy. It broke down and they spent their remaining cash for the month getting the car fixed enough so they could make it here. They had hoped to spend last night at the shelter but were denied since they didn't have medical clearance. So they spent last night in their vehicle, and were here in the hospital today, on Thanksgiving, trying to get that clearance in order to spend tonight at the shelter, and perhaps share in their Thanksgiving meal.
Sam is moved by their plight, and suspects that they have not eaten well the past few days. So Sam enlists the help of his associate Rita, and they go down to the cafeteria. Being Thanksgiving day the hospital is offering free Thanksgiving meals to everyone who is lucky enough to work there that day. Sam and Rita each make a plate, full of portions of Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing, and bring these plates up to the waiting room as a Thanksgiving gift to the woman and her son. They even go so far as to escort them out to a pleasant patio in another part of the hospital to further enjoy their meal.
The four year old boy sees the food and lights up like he's just received a Christmas present. He turns to his mother with a bright smile in his face saying, "Look mom, we get to eat today!" His mother is moved to tears, and apologizes for crying over something as simple as food, and hopes she hasn't embarrassed Sam. Sam does the best he can to reassure them, and wishes them well on their journey, and a Happy Thanksgiving.
So this 'hypothetical' event has been bugging the heck out of me for a couple weeks now, and I'm not really certain as to why. I know that I know how that little boy felt. There was a period of time in my life when food was scarce, and while I have very little recollection of most of the events in that period, I can distinctly recall what hunger is like. The dull ache at the pit of the stomach eventually goes away if you ignore it long enough, but you can't do much. I remember not being able to finish games of kickball, and getting lightheaded, or being completely exhausted after playing only a little bit of soccer, while the rest of the kids played on. I remember my father going hunting for rabbits, and I even joined him on one trip (unsuccessfully). I remember the first time I ever tasted white bread was when the Food Bank sent us a box of food. I remember the long line of people waiting for government subsidized cheese.
I don't dwell on these memories very often, hearing about this little boy has changed that. I've never even met him, so I don't know what he looks like, but I can vividly picture his face lighting up with pleasure and hope at the prospect of being able to eat today. Perhaps I am seeing myself 27 years ago, when my grandmother would make quesadillas, or my mother would cook rabbit. I'm not certain yet what it is, but I can't seem to put that picture out of my mind.
Perhaps putting this down here will help (that's what a blog is for after all). I feel that there is more to this tale, like another chapter that I haven't read yet, but I can't get to the book. I hope there is some resolution this story, and that it has a happy ending. Life has no guarantees of course, but sometimes we are able to make our own stories, or own destinies, our own lives.
I hope that inspite of all that seems to be stacked against this little boy, he is able to forge happy ending for himself.
I hope his angels continue to work overtime for him, through people like Sam and Rita.
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