Feeding the hungry on the salt & pepper detail

By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO—My very first job as a young teenager was working as a busboy in a Los Angeles cafeteria called Ontra’s.  I was fired after a single shift, with the manager telling me: “We need someone to clean the tables, not to talk with the customers.”  I was a schmoozer back then, and the truth of the matter is more than 50 years later, I still am.

With some sense of irony, I found that my half day of volunteering with my grandson, Shor, on a  tikkun olam project associated with his upcoming bar mitzvah would be—you guessed it—to work in a cafeteria that is operated downtown by St. Vincent de Paul’s to feed the hungry.

Along with a friend, Steve, and his son Yoni (whose bar mitzvah will precede Shor’s), we arrived prior to 9 a.m. Sunday morning, March 2, at the large edifice where St. Vincent de Paul does its fine work among the homeless, near the intersection of 16^th Street and Commercial Avenue.

We reported to a crew boss, who had us take a written test about health safety rules—which reiterated to us that we should wash our hands, wear clothing to keep our germs off the food, and other tips – and then we suited up in plastic apron, hair net and rubber gloves.

Shor and Yoni were dispatched together to the salt-and-pepper detail. When people came by with their trays laden with food, the boys would hand to them, or place on their trays, little packets of salt and pepper.  Steve, meanwhile, drew duty in the kitchen, and I, perhaps because of my bulk, was chosen to stand at the entrance to the area that was reserved for families with children, and to politely but firmly point those who did not have children with them to other tables.  As most of the 650 people who are served breakfast at St. Vincent de Paul’s already knew the rules, this job was not very difficult at all.

It should be pointed out that not all those who dine at St. Vincent de Paul are homeless; some of the family groupings have a place to stay, but rent takes so much of their monthly income that the free breakfasts at St. Vincent de Paul can really help out.  When members of an impoverished family have to weigh their needs so carefully, it makes sense that they might opt to stay indoors on a very rainy day and eat what they have on hand.  If they or the children catch cold, it could lead to expenses that their family can’t afford.

Whether that was the reason, or whether it was just a matter of serendipity, after an hour or so, it became obvious that there were not enough families with children coming on this particular Sunday to require all 50 seats that had been allotted to the family area.  After a while, the assistant crew boss said we could reserve just a single table of 12 for families, and sometime after that, he said we could release all the spaces in the area to breakfasters on a first-come, first-served basis.

That was good decision because the rain had caused a delay in the flow-through pace at the dining facility; people not wanting to go back into the rain had lingered over their coffee, just as I would have done in similar circumstances, hoping the sun might make its appearance .  In the meantime, the line of people outside waiting to get into the facility had backed up.  So by making the family tables available, the crew boss eased some of the pressure for dining space.

My “guard duty” done, I joined Shor and Yoni at their station.  Soon, I found myself falling back on old habits—and I encouraged Shor and Yoni, whose station was adjacent to mine—to do the same thing; that is “to talk with the customers.”  I urged the boys to greet the customers with a smile, to look them in the eye, and to wish them a good morning.  I have been told that homeless people are so often ignored by those more fortunate that they sometimes can be made to feel invisible, or even to feel that they don’t matter.  Of course they do indeed matter, and a cheery hello, along with treating them with the dignity that is our birthright as fellow human beings, are the very least that we can offer them.

Sometimes the people whom the boys and I greeted smiled back and said hello; other times they averted their eyes, and said nothing.   For Shor and Yoni, the most memorable exchanges were with those people who, unprompted, offered them advice.  “Stay in school, so you won’t end up where I am,” I heard one man tell Shor and Yoni.  “Don’t do drugs,” advised another.  “Stay away from alcohol,” said a third.

One man scooped from a tub a bunch of the pepper packets, and then ceremoniously handed one back to Shor. “A tip!” he smiled.  His humorous gesture prompted such an appreciative laugh from the boys—and from me—that he returned later in the morning to the station and repeated the jest.

About 11:30 a.m., our work was temporarily done, and the volunteers got to eat the hard-boiled eggs, breads, milk, and sweets that had been on the customers’ menu.  After gulping it down, we then got back to work cleaning the dining hall.  Some of us stacked trays, other policed the tables for paper trash, others mopped the floors; and so forth.  There were probably two dozen volunteers, some from Temple Emanu-El, others from an array of other groups, and the work was done quickly.  Temple Emanu-El has drawn its inspiration from Congregation Beth Israel, which, under the leadership of Joan Kutner, nearly 30 years ago pioneered Jewish involvement in this interfaith project. Today a leader of the Emanu-El project is Debi Krass.

When the time came for us to leave, Steve politely suggested that maybe it was time for me to take off my apron and hair net, which I had gotten so used to, I forgot I was wearing them.  The same thing often happens to me when I wear a kippah; it feels so unobtrusive atop my head, I forget it’s there.

On the way home, we asked the boys about their reaction to the project. Handing out salt and pepper packets for more than two hours, they said, was pretty monotonous work, but being on the serving side of the line, in their opinion, was far better than being on the receiving end.

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Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World.  He may be contacted at donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com

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San Diego Jewish World seeks sponsorships to be placed, as this notice is, just below articles that appear on our site.  This is an ideal opportunity for your corporate message or to personally remember a loved one’s contributions to our community.  To inquire, call editor Donald H. Harrison at (619) 265-0808 or contact him via donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com