Scrap the Pizzas!

Do you know, it almost feels weird to be writing about normalcy again, after the long occupation?

A pleasant sort of weird.

Today’s crisis involves 120 bagels, a vat of tomato soup, and a whole lot of plastic.

It has always struck me as ironic that the Save the Earth and Feed the People groups can’t find cheap ways of working together. I have a thousand two-ounce plastic cups which I will be filling with cheese today (well, a couple hundred of them) and then lidding with yet more plastic.

Now the good thing about all that plastic is any lidded container is a treasure to the homeless people lucky enough to get motel vouchers so they can stay in a 10×10 with heat and tv and–best of all–a microwave and fridge so we can give them some heat-and-serve food. They will reuse the little plastic cup until it falls apart – or someone shrinks it in the microwave. :] Things happen.

We (my friends Amelia, Michele, and I) were all set to do bagel pizzas on Sunday. We had all the fixings for veggies and cheese, and Amelia very kindly was bringing summer sausages to slice up and add for meat options.

Enter snowmageddon, and our fun fellowship of cheerful women slapping pizzas together has turned to Wendy shoving frozen bagels still in plastic wrap out the door with little cups of cheese for make-it-yourself faux grilled cheese sandwiches (call them bagels au gratin?) and a large styrofoam cup of tomato soup. Yes, stryofoam. If you don’t like us using it, buy us some stuff that’s biodegradable but still warms your hands if you’re not one of the lucky ones and you’re camping up behind…. never mind where. The police will go rip it up if they know, sadly. God bless everyone involved in those decisions and I don’t fault the officers for doing what they’re ordered to do. I fault the ones who ordered it. Thanks.

So here I am, alone in my kitchen, surrounded by plastic and feeling desperate to shove these meals out the door before the snow flies. And thanking God that the people whose names and stories I have come to know are safe inside motel rooms.

Some of them might get in trouble, because if they have two beds and only use one, they will share. They may “rent” out the other bed. They may have friends and relations. They may just know someone from the food bank. If they get caught, everyone gets in trouble.

Sigh. Gotta go stuff little plastic cups with cheese now. Have a great day and stay warm, wherever you are!

Empty

Friday Jan. 16 was the day That Guy was ordered out of my house. Lots of interesting little tidbits to share later about court orders versus clerk offices and sheriff departments, but for today let’s talk about going out there to see if he was gone.

He was. He had stripped the house. Cabinet from the walls. Doors from a cabinet left behind. Furniture, wall art, rugs. The linoleum down the hallway ripped up, probably the worst of the damage.

Nate, a handyman who went with me to change the locks and be there just in case, is accustomed to evictions. He works for a non-profit I volunteer with that helps house homeless people. Some use it as a perch from which to relaunch. Some see it as a cozy nest they need do nothing to keep.

Nate looked around and said, “Most of this makes sense. They took the rugs and the linoleum to keep from being held accountable for pet damage. I don’t know why they took the cabinet off the wall, or the hanging bars from the closets.”

They are gone. And with them any hope of this guy ever having a good housing deal again. He’s shot himself in the foot because word is through the community. Nate works for the homeless help center. The friend who introduced me to him has refused to take him back to her house. He will find some help someplace: a couch surf, a family tie. But he will never get the deal he had with us:10 hours of work a week, keep the house you’re living in clean and in good working order, pay the light bill.

Another friend who gave me moral support through the court proceedings has a beloved grandson who was harmed as a child. An unstable upbringing involving pain and violations of a child’s trust. And this beloved child now inflicts pain and violates trust. Just like the guy we would have let live in our property forever, if only he had kept his end of the deal. Pain does not heal pain, but so many people try it anyway.

The trailer is empty. The promises are empty. The future is empty. Hollow in the holler. Why are people proud to be their own worst enemies?

Render of 3D Contemporary Empty Room