HOME

PHOTOS &
CURRENT COLUMNS

FANS' FAVORITE FIVE

COLUMNS BY
SUBJECT

www.livingthelifeofholly.com
Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
Do Homeless People Like Sushi?

“Don’t unpack food here.” Cool-guy said. “I’m setting up the buffet.”

“The homeless people are coming into the kitchen to eat lunch?” I asked.

He stopped what he was doing and pointed. “They come in that door, pick up a tray, get hot food there, then go there to the buffet and fill up their plates with cold food there. They’ll sit in there.”

“Oh. Now I see it.” I turned to his mother. “Did you know that’s how it worked?”

“I had no idea.”

I was excited to be cooking lunch for a homeless shelter on Christmas Day. Um. Not that I could do the cooking. That was Cool-guy’s job. But. I figured that I could chop carrots or something.

Worker shuffled into the kitchen. “Some rich guy came by and dropped off a bunch of food this morning that was left over from a party he had last night. You can use it if you want to, or cook what you brought along.”

We started digging through the donated bags. There was sushi and smoked salmon and cheese trays.

“We can use all of this.” Cool-guy laughed. “We’ve lucked out, ladies. We don’t have much cooking to do.”

“Do homeless people like sushi?” I asked.

Cool-guy turned his back and started opening containers of sauces from the donation bags. “This peanut sauce will pour quite nicely over some pasta.”

“Do homeless people like peanut sauce?” I asked. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t they rather have tomato sauce over their pasta? You know. Something normal?”

Cool-guy continued unpacking bags.

Why wasn’t he answering me? “Why aren’t you answering me?” I asked.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to me. “Because. These people are homeless. They just need a place to stay. Believe me, I know food. They’ll love the sushi.”

I started cutting a huge piece of salami into slices. I peeled off the outer layer of paper from each slice after it was cut. “They will LOVE this salami.” I said. “It’s more familiar. I’ll bet it’ll be the first thing gone.”

“You’re probably right.” His mother said.

Cool-guy came up behind me. “Here. Let me show you how to cut the WHOLE paper off the WHOLE salami so it doesn’t take you a WHOLE long time.” He cut a thin slice down the side of the salami and pulled off the shell.

“Thanks honey.” I said, reaching up to give him a kiss.

“You can kiss me later.” He said. “These people are hungry. Let’s get their food out.”

We finished setting up and opened the door thus signaling the line of people standing in the hall that lunch was being served. The first man entered and picked up a tray.

I was ready. “Merry Christmas!”

“There’s nothing merry about Christmas when you’re homeless.” He snapped.

I didn’t flinch. “Would you like some hot food?” I asked sweetly.

“Food is food.” He said, rolling his eyes.

The homeless knew that there were better places to be on Christmas. Homes with fireplaces and loving families. They knew they were in a shelter, a low form of home on any scale.

The line was pressing behind him.

“Would you care for shrimp? Or steak? Or maybe some pesto pasta? No. You look like the kind of man who would rather have peanut pasta.”

His eyes got big. “Why the good food?”

“Um. Why? Because it’s Christmas and because it’s lunch time.”

He stared at me blankly.

“Hey.” I said. “There’s lots of food here…. And. Whatever you don’t eat will be leftovers. So. Start eating.”

“I’ll do that.” He said slowly, accepting a helping of each warm dish.

The next lady stood in front of the selections for a few moments. “How much shrimp can I have?”

“How much can you eat?” Cool-guy’s mom challenged, serving a heaping pile onto her tray. We were only expecting about fifty people as a restaurant in town sent a bus to pick up anyone who wanted a free Christmas lunch. We had prepared way too much.

After a while I let someone take my place so I could hang by the cold food.

“Could I have some milk?” A woman asked.

“As much as you can drink.” I said, pouring a large glass. “Or until we run out. Which ever comes first.”

“You aren’t a church group. I can tell.”

“How can you tell?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You aren’t trying to hand out bibles with the milk.”

I laughed. “I promise. You don’t have to earn your milk with this group.”

A large man with a bandana around his neck and tattoos running up and down his arms rushed to the buffet, grabbed a handful of salami, and did a quick salami slam into his mouth.

I laughed. “The trays are over there.”

“Oh. This is going to be good.” He smiled. He looked like he was about to cry. “This is going to be so good.”

He started piling food high onto his tray. “I’ve never been so hungry. Never, ever.”

Cool-guy’s mom smiled. “You came to the right place. We have lots of food.”

The office receptionist walked up and stood between him and the food. “Did you sleep here last night?”

“No.” He said politely as he reached around her and added a chicken salad sandwich to his plate.

“Then you can’t eat. Sorry. You have to be registered here before you can eat. You have to go.”

“What?” He cried. “You’re throwing me out? On Christmas?”

“Sorry.” She said, uncaringly. “We have to follow rules. So do you.”

“Oh. Man.” He pleaded. “You won’t let me eat one meal?

She turned to me. “You can give him a to-go box.”

“No.” He said. “Forget it.” He turned to me. “She ruined my appetite.”

I dumped his tray into the to-go box. “Here. You’ll need something to eat while you’re leaving.” I said, adding more salami to the box.

“Merry Christmas.” Cool-guy’s mom said. “And. We expect you to eat all that food. You’ll need it. It’s cold outside.”

He smiled and gave a little bow. “I promise.”

A young man stepped up. “Yeah. But. Who are you guys? Why are you here?”

I laughed. “We’re here to feed you. We like to cook. And. Looks like you’re doing more talking then eating. Um. At my house nobody leaves till they’ve had thirds. Have you had your seconds yet?”

He laughed. “I was looking at those brownies.”

I put three brownies on a napkin.

“Three?”

I shrugged. “They’re small.”

Cool-guy’s mom stepped up. “You’ll need a glass of milk with that, honey. Brownies always need milk.”

A man walked up. “Sushi? Oh. This’s a great day! I’ll need some wasabi sauce with that. And some pickled ginger.”

“Eat more.” I insisted. “I don’t like leftovers.”

“If you insist.” He laughed, adding to his sushi mountain.

My guesses had been completely off. There was only two pieces of sushi left. The smoked salmon was almost gone. The salami remained. The peanut pasta was gone. The pesto pasta remained.

Sour woman walked up. She had complained about everything. Cool-guy had whipped up some fresh salsa because she felt that she couldn’t enjoy her meal without it. “The food even looks good.” She sighed.

“Thanks.” I smiled. “Would you like more?”

“No. I don’t want anything else. For the first time in a long time I don't want anything. I only want to thank you. Thank you for making this so special. The food was really great. And. It was colorful. And it tasted good.”

She shook her head back and forth and inhaled quickly. “This is the best meal we’ve ever had here.”

Cool-guy stepped forward. “Thanks. That means a lot to us.”

I mindlessly reached down and picked up a piece of smoked salmon and bit into it. Yum. I love smoked salmon.

Sour-woman stared at me. “You’d eat our food?”

“Sure.” I mumbled thorough a salmoned mouth. “This’s great stuff. Would you like a brownie for the road?”

“No.” She smiled. “I’d rather have sushi for the road.”

“My kind of woman.” Cool-guy smiled.

Sour-woman put the sushi on a napkin and floated out of the cafeteria.

“That’s what I like.” Cool-guy laughed. “A sour woman turned sweet with food.”

Worker stood silent for several moments. “I can’t believe it. Sour woman actually said something nice. I didn’t think it was possible. I can’t believe it. This is going in my notes for the day. It must be some kind of Christmas miracle or something.”

Cool-guy’s mother fought back tears. “You mean we really made a difference today? Just by coming in to make one little lunch?”

A man approached the counter and stood in front of me. “Merry Christmas.” He said, intently.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” I said with a smile.

“You already wished me a Merry Christmas when I walked in.” He said. “I was the first one through the door, but I was too busy thinking about all the things that were wrong with my day. Now I’ve had a few minutes to think about all that’s right with my day, like this great food and you nice people, and…. well…. and….. I realized I never wished you a Merry Christmas.”

And that’s how we ended our time at the shelter. By remembering what was right with the day instead of thinking about all the wrongness that surrounded us.

And. It was clear to us that today….. today we had a hand in what was right.

Wanna try another column? How about #149: Burning Desire which is about learning how to light the wood stove.

or Click here to go to Current Columns to pick another column. Or perhaps you would like to go to Column Finder by Subject to choose your next column about dating, or epilepsy or friends... you choose!

Don't miss out! Sign up to receive a free copy of Holly's column via e-mail each week. (All e-mail addresses are private... NEVER, EVER shared.)

Or send a blank e-mail to Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Subject: Subscribe Me.

Comment on this column in The Forum

Or

Send Holly your comments. Tell her what you really think! Your comments might be published on her website, or in her weekly Yahoo Group e-mail. Send Comments

Wanna vote for your favorite column? Fan's favorite column picks will be added to the Fan's Favorite Five page. Send your pick for your favorite here. Fan's Favorite Column Pick

Copyright © 2003 by Holly Winter
www.livingthelifeofholly.com
All Rights Reserved