Peace, Love and Understanding

While most people in this country pile into the car to congregate with loads of family at grandma's house for Thanksgiving, there are others who are very much alone. Some of them are "grandma", just without the requisite family. They don't have any, are too far away and without the financial means to see them, or their health is simply too poor to make the trip.

This year, I took advantage of an opportunity to teach my three daughters about the true spirit of Thanksgiving by visiting some of those less fortunate souls through the Meals on Wheels program. Lori, our friend and the local program coordinator, told me that for many of the program recipients, we'd likely be the only human beings they'd see that day--and very possibly the only people they'd see that week.

I was a little concerned about my preschoolers' ability to interact with elderly strangers in all the right ways, and was looking forward to sharing the experience with another friend and her two children so we'd have a cushion if someone decided to...well, act their age a bit. But when she canceled at the last minute, I could hardly back out on the people who were counting on the meals. I'd just have to cross my fingers and hope for the best. And bribe mercilessly, if necessary.

So off we went, my three girls and I, into 19-degree, windy, snow covered weather, to pick up meals at the local hospital and make the rounds to 8 different delivery stops. Lori was there at pick-up, which thrilled my daughters and set a great tone for the day. We were loaded up with handmade cards (my oldest draws a pretty damn good turkey in crayon, if I do say so myself), bland dinners, and lots of enthusiasm. With the radio tuned into the football game, we made our way to the first stop, which was a retirement home in a town not far from Detroit. Luckily, this one home encompassed 4 of our 8 stops, so once we made it inside it was pretty easy to navigate from door to door. That was a good thing, as I was managing a large cooler, a shopping bag, three small people and various coats and mittens. Missing the canceling friend about then.

Door #1: Leathery, brown-skinned, ancient man with a booming voice and commanding presence. He insisted on each of the girls telling him their names and ages and fussed appropriately about the cards they'd made. Using a walker, he sidled back to his chair as I set up his meal for him before wishing him a wonderful holiday and moving on.

Door #2: ...Actually, before we made it to door #2, we were intercepted by a woman whose door was wide open as she hovered in the hallway, waiting, it seemed, for an opportunity just like us to walk by and give her something to fawn over.

"Well, Happy Thanksgiving!" she cooed, which we politely returned. "We're just making our rounds delivering a few meals," I explained. "Oh, how nice!" she responded, with a pause.

"Um, I'm afraid I only have a small number for those who signed on," I fumbled, "...but would you like one as well?"

Thankfully, she really didn't want or need the meal. The pleasure of our company, however, was another story. Weighing the needs of 7 other people patiently awaiting their feasts against her need for some interaction, I decided a quick visit wasn't going to put us back too far. We discussed the twins (no, they're not identical) and Julia's impressions of kindergarten this year. We talked about the weather. We gave her one of our cards (I'd need to figure out the consequences of that later in the day). After a few minutes I was ready to get going and we told her to enjoy her day.

So, Door #2: Here we had a gentleman who called for us to come on in instead of answering the door, as it turns out because he would have had a heck of a time making the trek had he attempted it. Here, we did most of the talking, and while he seemed appreciative of the meal and our visit, I believe our 2-minute interruption on his life exhausted him.

Door #3: Mrs. Arlene Lawrence, if you please. A Southern Lady simply brimming with gratitude, and also a bit surprised to see us. Apparently she forgot she had requested the meal, or perhaps someone in her family or a friend had arranged it. In any case, she acted as though we had come to tell her she'd won the lottery--and I really wished I had.

Door #4: Another man, this one a bit brusque. Didn't deter the girls' enthusiasm one iota, poor guy. He had to listen to their ramblings and acknowledge their creative cards whether he wanted to or not. I'm thinking not, though he was polite enough. I believe he really just wanted to eat and get back to his football game, and we headed back to the car to reorganize for another stop.

Our next stop was nearby in mileage, but definitely lifestyles away from the neat, tidy apartment-style building our first deliveries were in. Using the provided Yahoo map, I traveled in many circles in the surrounding neighborhoods to try to find the next home....it wasn't there. Somehow my map reading skills couldn't overcome streets with no names, or neighborhoods with boarded up buildings where landmarks had been identified on my route. After venturing into sincere ghetto territory and getting a fast busy signal when calling the intended deliveree, I was just about to give up. Then I spotted a fire station. Two minutes later we were safely on our way to the right neighborhood with clear directions.

Door #5: Trailer home with 2 inches of ice and snow on the steep, slightly rickety stairs leading to the front door. The girls insisted on coming with me inside against my wishes that they stay in their heated car seats, so we slowly and very carefully made our way. The woman who answered the door was no more than a couple of years older than me---strange, given the Senior Alliance runs the Meals on Wheels program for the elderly community--but I assumed that her mother or father was somewhere inside, and regardless, that the meal was needed and appreciated. She seemed a bit embarrassed, or maybe just hurried, as we explained the contents of the meals. She told us to have a good afternoon and we made our way out of the park and onto our next 3 stops, all of which were just minutes from our own neighborhood.

Problem: there were two people at two of the last 3 stops--I had only been given meals for one at each location. Quick panic call to Lori begging her to tell me that it would be okay for me to buy Boston Market as substitute meals, to which she happily agreed. Side trip to the drive-thru. Thank God for holiday drive-thrus.

Door #6: Friendly older woman who seemed to be in the middle of cooking, yet pleased to see us and enjoy some food she didn't have to fuss over. Thrilled at the Boston Market bags. Quick in-and-out.

Door #7: Girls are fast asleep. The day has really dragged on much longer than anticipated. Missing the canceling friend again. The home is tiny and old, with a dog the size of a kitten and the bark of a Doberman. Nice woman with absolutely no teeth to speak of, aside from a sparkling gold cap which she brandished with an eager smile. No time to come in and chat with napping kids waiting in the car, but she understood.

Door #8: Our final destination. Still have a car full of nappers. Mrs. Wall greets me at the front stoop with perfect makeup, plenty of perfume to spare, and a view into her large, immaculate home. In our brief discussion, I learn that Mr. Wall over on the couch has had several strokes and needs constant care, while Mrs. Wall herself has suffered through some serious health issues of late. So the meals, she tells me, are very much appreciated. At 85, the woman embraces me with a hug that could easily establish peace in the Middle East. She absolutely, positively INSISTS that I take half of her bag of Hershey's miniatures for the girls to enjoy when they get home. There's no saying "no" to Mrs. Wall.

Finally, we're ready to head home, wait for dad to get back from work ,and start cooking our own Thanksgiving feast. And while I was pooped, I was also extremely thankful to have given my girls the opportunity to meet such nice people and bring them, I hope, a little holiday cheer along the way.