Generosity

Druing my 30 years as a museum director I (Mark) certainly learned to rely on the generosity of others. My accommplishments were always underpinned by the gifts of people's time, talent, and funds. The same is true here, but even to a greater extent. The St. Francis Inn accepts no government funds or grants, allowing the governing "team" to make decisions solely on the basis of the needs of our clients, as the Holy Spirit directs. All of the food which we distribute to 300 - 400 people each day is donated; all of the funds which pay the stipends to the paid staff (the salaries are very low!) and help people with short term needs such as rent are donated; and all of the goods such as clothing (some of which is almost new)that are distributed through the St. Benedict's thrift store are given to us. Truly, God works through generous people. One of my jobs is "pick ups", i.e. driving our battered van to businesses to pick up their food donations. It is amazing to me how these generous firms donate, on a daily basis, enough food to fill the van. Every day...if one pick up is smaller than usual, another is always larger. I often ask myself why the businesses contribute: I mean if it was I who was running the bakery, I would simply make fewer loaves of bread and bagels and have less left over! Obviously,God works through these generous people, warming their hearts to the needs of those less fortunate. What a privilege it is to work with such community-minded people.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Philadelphia is made up of neighborhoods. Ours is called Kensington. It was once a thriving manufacturing center, with homes, shops and factories. Then the factories closed, the stores moved to the suburbs and buildings were abandoned. Other former factory neighborhoods like Fishtown, Port Richmond and Northern Liberties are nearby. Some of these neighborhoods are being revitalized. Factories are being renovated with lofts and condos sitting above art galleries and wine bars. There are signs of beauty in our neighborhood as well. An urban garden is present, a playground, pocket park and murals painted on the sides of buildings. Of course, there are also homeless people, drug deals, lots of trash, broken glass and graffiti.

Cheesesteak Wars

Saturday marked 4 weeks of being in Philly and we decided to celebrate by having a famous Philly Cheesesteak. We had been polling natives as to best cheesesteak. While Jim's in South Philly and Steve's in Northeast Philly got high ratings, we decided to go with the two that most people are familiar with-Pat's and Geno's. Since Geno has a sign that says that you must order in English, and that seems terribly un-Franciscan, we opted for the older stand, founded in 1930. (Just as an aside: the south Philly brand of English is almost unintelligible to me: "Yo! Where youse guys put da wadder ice wit my name on it?")
Legend says that the Oliveri brothers were hotdog vendors, and one day served a cab driver some chopped steak in a hotdog bun. The cabbie came back for more, it spread around, and soon the brothers realized they had a hit. They built a stand in South Philly, at the present location, in 1930. One day a bored cook put cheese on the sandwich, and a sensation was born. Geno's, across the intersection, didn't open until 1966. Both use Italian bread from the same bakery, and both cut the beef off a fresh (not frozen) hunk of beef. Neither have inside seating. The lines move fast, and when one gets to the window, the money (no credit or debit cards accepted) should be in hand and the order rehearsed. We had "2 cheesesteaks, with, whiz, to go." Translation: 2 cheesesteaks with fried onions and cheese whiz. One could order American, provolone or swiss cheese, and also mushrooms and/or peppers for an additional cost. A separate window takes orders for soda, fries or hot chocolate. The place is open until 2 am, and the current great nephew of the founders says the secret of the flavor is the 75 year old grill upon which the meat is cooked. Was it good? Yes. Was it the best Philly cheesesteak we ever had? Probably not. But the experience was priceless.

The Women's Center

Today was my first visit to the Thea Bowman Women's Center. Sister Xavier, a former college professor, has been running it since 1992. It is a daytime residence center, operating from 10-4 Monday-Friday. About 10-15 women of all ages will come each day. They shower, wash their clothes, have breakfast and lunch, and generally "hang out." On Tuesday and Thursday they have a guided group discussion, facilitated by Sister Xavier. Since today was my first visit, each woman told something about herself and something about the Center. The remarks about the Center were so positive--they felt peace here, it was a place they could get away from drugs and alcohol, they saw the other women and Sister as their family. Some of the women had been sober for 5-20 years. Others were still struggling with alcohol and drugs. One woman told me she raised 5 children and held a job until she was 40. Then from 40-50 she was drinking heavily. Today at 70, she has been sober for 20 years. She has helped raise grandchildren and even a great grandchild. She rides a bike to and from the center. Another woman told me she had a college degree and had been living in Florida with a husband and 2 children. She came to Philadelphia to visit her brother, and things got out of hand. She divorced her husband, started drinking and never made it back to Florida. That was 10 years ago. She has been sober 5 years. She loves to do crafts, and made me a friendship bracelet. She is also an epiletic, and worries that when she walks to the Center, she will have a seizure on the street and no one will help her.
I felt overwhelmed listening to these stories and those of the other women. What could I contribute to their lives? Other than praying for them, I felt at a loss.

Music, the Universal Connection

Moving to a new place is difficult. There are entirely new people, a new neighborhood, a huge, unfamiliar city to deal with. One of the things which keeps me (Mark) connected is music. The very first item I loaded into our car when we were packing for our trip up here was my keyboard, and one of the first connections I made upon arriving was with Sister Mary, who does the music for our weekly mass. Thea and I are only three weeks into our stay here in Philly, but already, I am a member of the St. Francis Inn's music group. Sister plays guitar and together we provide the music for mass. Last week, we sang "Servant Song" and the meditation was "Prayer of St. Francis" which I played as an instrumental. It was a great way for me to share my gift for music with our community. As I played the Alleluia for the Mass of Glory (the "Mark" Alleluia), I thought fondly of our wonderful Contemporary Choir at St. Al's and how much I miss playing with them. However, in a meaningful way, the fact that I am playing for the masses here connects me to those that I have (temporarily) left behind and to God in a very special way.

Visiting the Jersey Shore

In Florida and NC, you go to the beach. Some places call it the coast. In the mid-Atlantic states, you go to "the shore."
Friday was our day off. We had not been off together for 10 days, so we had a big day planned. After Mass we drove to Brigantine Wildlife Refuge near Atlantic City, and looked for the white-rumped sandpipers. They hadn't been seen for 5 days, but we wanted to give it a try. The tide was really high, and I guess there were no places for the little birds to feed on a mudflat, so we failed seeing them. We did see some beautiful mute swans (wild) and a great closeup of a merlin, a type of hawk.
From there we drove north to Tom's River, then took a bridge across Barnegat Bay to a barrier island. The houses on the island were so close that you could touch two different ones at the same time. However, most of the island had been preserved as Island Beach State Park, which was about 10 miles long and a few hundred feet wide.This is the only preserved barrier island in the entire state. We were looking for a thrush that had been found and banded the day before, but we had no real leads on the location, so we didn't see it. We did enjoy walking through the maritime forest on the bay side of the island and seeing the large dunes on the ocean side. The place was pretty much deserted as the season ends on Labor Day. We decided to find a place in the town of Seaside Park for dinner, and found a seafood restaurant still open until Sunday, when it would close until next May. The restaurant was on the second floor of a building and had windows on three sides overlooking the state park and the bay. It took us about an hour and 45 minutes to get back to Philadelphia. On the way back we drove through Lakehurst, NJ, site of the Hindenberg balloon explosion, and also Medford, NJ, where Mark's grandmother is buried.

Perspective

I(Mark)have a health concern that is really worrying me. It's not something that will "kill me tomorrow", but it may very well change the way I live longterm. I have been thinking about this issue for a while now, praying at mass for my "special intention". This morning Thea and I went to mass, and again in the silence before the service began, I prayed silently to God to "take this cup from me". As I was praying, I noticed one of the St. Frances Inn's regular guests coming in to mass. He is a swarthy looking character, but basically clean and well mannered. He looked straight at me and, without missing a beat, said: "Isn't it great to be alive today!" Indeed. Here is a man who is, at best working poor, and at worst borderline homeless praising God for the gift of life. Would that we all do as well as this man, and stop worrying about things we cannot control and start trusing more in the Lord.

Mail Check, Please

On Monday, both Mark and I had the opportunity to work in the office of the Inn and answer the "side door." During the day and also during the serving of the meal, many people come and ring the doorbell. Some are asking for diapers, others for a glass of water or a snack cake. But most of them want to see if they have any mail or if they can use our phone.
For people in transitional housing, it is important to have a permanent address. Otherwise, they can miss getting important mail like bank statements and social security checks. Many people use the Inn's address as their permanent one. So the Inn has a file cabinet where we keep the mail in alphabetical order. If a person wants us to check for mail, he shows us his I.D. and we go to the proper drawer and hunt for any mail.
Some of our guests have prepaid cell phones. Others have used up their minutes, had the phone stolen, need to charge it up, or just don't have any means of telephoning. So we have a phone for their use in our office. A staff member needs to be present during the calls. The most common phone call seems to be to a relative. A guest wants to check in, let the relative know how he is doing, and what the latest news is from the street. Sometimes a friend has gone to jail, or died, and the news needs to be passed on.
The other way people use our phone is to call the Inn during serving hours and ask for a person they believe may be eating or waiting to eat. Monday I had a man call from the prison and ask for Robert. I went out to the yard and called for Robert. I was told he hadn't arrived yet. One cannot put the prison caller on hold because it disconnects the prepaid phone call. So I returned to the office and told the caller his friend hadn't come yet. He called back 20 minutes later, and I tried again. This time Robert was there and was able to talk to his friend. I have been told by the staff that sometimes a person in jail will call and if none of his friends are around, that he will use his call time to talk to the staff member, just so he has a conversation with someone outside the prison.

Rainy Days and Mondays.....

Most people prefer a sunny day to a rainy one. Even after the severe drought conditions in NC, I would catch myself complaining about the rain, but would then end my complaint by stating "but we need the rain." Rain was a minor inconvenience, forcing me to run home from the pool, or dash from the car into the school when I didn't have an umbrella.
We had our first rainstorm since arriving in Philadelphia on Thursday night. The wind was blowing so hard it woke me up. In my half-asleep state, I thought someone was breaking into our house through a window. Actually, the sound was the blinds thrashing against the open windows. It was trash collection day Friday, and the garbage cans and recyclables were blowing up and down the street. I was assigned to bathroom duty again, and I watched the guests arrive for the meal. Some had raincoats, umbrellas, even rain boots. Most just had their regular hooded sweatshirts and jackets. I was particularly concerned about the elderly who come with canes and crutches. They could not move quickly through the rain and the streets were slippery. It was impossible to carry an umbrella and use crutches simultaneously. One older man used the bathroom to change from wet clothes to dry ones before his departure. We served only half of our usual number due to the heavy rain. I wondered if those who didn't come would have a hot meal, or any meal, today.

Courage

This morning, I (Mark) went to mass. The usual people were there -- team members, the Franciscan Volunteer Missioners, the Franciscan Friers -- holy, committed people trying to do God's will. These people inspire me daily, buth this morning, there were two newcomers. In the front row were two young men who introduced themselves as Danny and Richard. As mass progressed, I noticed that both held Klenexes and that there was a "connection" between them: a quick pat on the back or a touch on the arm. This support was not between gay partners, but rather the support of "partners in addiction". As the Precious Blood was passed to them, each man raised the cup in honor to the cross and passed the the cup to his neighbor without partaking.
at one point, Richard cried silently into his Klenex. After mass, I greeted both men and my conclusions were confirmed: Danny was five days into the AA program at the Treatment Center across the street from St. Francis Inn; Richard was on his very first day in the program. Both are recovering alcoholics.

Life on the street is hard. Many of our guests have various addictions. I really admire the courage of those who choose to face these addictions and to try to place them in the hands of God. There are many examples, but this morning, it was the quiet courage of Richard and Danny which spoke to me, and I will pray for each of them that they are successful. I invite you to pray for them as well.

It's Breakfast Time

The Inn serves breakfast to the guests Tuesday-Thursday. Unlike dinner, this meal is not a sit-down meal. Guests arrive around 10 am and go to a window where they pick up hot coffee or tea, pastries(Tuesday/Thursday) or cereal (Wednesdays). Wednesday I was in the "yard" where the guests stand or sit and eat and socialize. The yard is a paved lot with some lovely plants and trees along the north and east sides. My job was to monitor the bathrooms. When I had bathroom duty at my various high schools, I detested it because it took time away from getting ready for my classes. However, giving the guests a clean bathroom to use and making sure the bathrooms stay clean made me look at this assignment differently.
While I was at my post, a man came through the gate into the yard. Suddenly, he collapsed on the ground. I ran over and could see he was having a seizure. I went into the Inn and had someone call 911. I could see that as he fell he had gotten abrasions from the gravel. I grabbed some latex gloves and napkins and returned outside. By this time the guest was conscious, but he was struggling against all who were trying to help. Finally, the ambulance arrived and took him to the hospital. Someone got a bucket of water and washed the blood off the ground.
Wednesday morning the reading at Mass had been Luke's version of the beatitudes. Unlike Matthew, who says "blessed are the poor in spirit", Luke says, "blessed are the poor." Luke says blessed are the hungry, not "those who hunger and thirst for righteousness," as in Matthew. Fr. Michael related those differences to the people who believe that the Inn is just a bandaid for the poor, and not a way to make any systemic change. I would like to see a system of justice where there were no homeless people, where the addicted and mentally ill were cared for, fed and loved every day. It would be wonderful if the Inn had no guests because there was no need. Until that day, the Inn will be feeding the hungry and helping the poor.

All work and no play.....

Even though the Inn serves meals 7 days a week, we each have a day off and a prayer day. On Friday-Sunday, the meal is served from 11:30-1pm, so by 2 pm most of the time everything is mopped and put away, and our time is our own. This week we were both off on Wednesday, and we drove to New Jersey to a wildlife refuge near Atlantic City. One thing that is different from NC is that there are charges for the highway and bridges. Since we are on a budget, paying $4.00 to cross a bridge,$3.00 for a highway and $4 to enter a refuge is going to be an infrequent event. We have learned to find alternate routes to places that do not require a tollroad. Unfortunately, there is no way to cross the river without using a bridge!
Saturday we took the subway/El to the Philadelphia Museum of Art around 2 pm. Our membership in the Hickory Museum allows us free admission. I had gotten public transportation directions from the Transit website, but didn't realize there was a station named Spring Garden on the El and one named Spring Garden on the subway. We got off on the wrong one, and ended up walking two miles to the Museum. It was pretty hot and Mark had been on his feet for hours working. Once we got there, it was fabulous--gallery after gallery of our favorite Impressionists. We only had to walk a mile to the correct subway station when we left the museum.
Tomorrow is Labor Day, and since it is a holiday the meal will be served early. After the meal, all of the volunteers and staff that live here are going to a park and have a picnic, followed by games. This meal will be our community meal for the week, and it will be fun to visit a city park.

Franciscan hospitality

Part of the Franciscan ministry is hospitality, not just to the poor but to anyone that appears at the Inn. When we arrived, our house was clean, there were milk, eggs and bread in the kitchen, and we were invited immediately to share in dinner with the FVMers. It is hard not to want to reach out to others when the opportunity comes. For example, today was my prayer day. When Mark and I were told that we would work 5 days, have one free day and one prayer day, the prayer day seemed the most difficult. So I have started slowly. I had hoped to spend 3 hours praying formally and informally, doing some spiritual reading and journaling. About 2 hours into this a knock came on the door, and Karen asked if it would be okay if a former volunteer and his two children could stay the night with us. If this had happened to me two weeks ago, I would have been in a tizzy. But I just said sure, and proceeded to make up 3 beds, get towels and be thankful I cleaned the bathrooms yesterday! The former volunteer was here is 1989 and is now a doctor, and he was bringing his 9 and 11 year old to help with a meal today. What a great way to teach children about compassion to those who are marginalized by society.
On the other hand, there are times when we are not hospitable. Two nights ago we were going up to bed, and a knock came at the door. I told Mark to check to see who it was, and there were 2 strangers outside. Through the door they asked for a blanket or sheet for the night. Of course,we wanted to help them, but nothing here is ours to give and we were told not to do this. We both felt guilty and unkind,but turned our back on them nevertheless. The next day we checked with others, and were told that was the right course, and that there were beds for them down the street. Regardless, there are times when doing the right thing seems like the wrong thing.

Cooking 101

Yesterday I (Mark) got the cooking "101" class from Brother Xavier. Together, we were responsible for preparing the evening meal for 300+. The menu was sliced roast beef, boiled potatoes, cut up carrots, and tomatoes & onion, with dessert. My job was cutting up the potatoes and carrots -- ENDLESS supplies of potatoes and carrots. In all, I prepared 120 pounds of potatoes and 25 pounds of carrots. It took 4 hours of continuous chopping -- a physcially demanding task with which I was not familiar. My 30 years of museum work stressed thinking, planning, fundraising, and schmoosing people -- not physical labor. But, somehow being "an indian" versus being in charge was oddly freeing. All I had to do was chop, chop, and chop again. I ended up being very happy as I saw our clients enjoying the food that I had helped prepare. Thea and I are feeling very fulfilled right now.

We are on the Schedule

We arrived here on Sunday without a single wrong turn. Judy, the long-term volunteer coordinator, met us and gave us a quick tour of the apartment and the storage areas of the Inn. As we were unloading the car, Leo, one of the new Franciscan Volunteer Ministry members(FVM) came by and offered to help us unload. He also invited us to eat with the FVMers at their house, and meet the other volunteers assigned to Camden, NJ and Wilmington, DE.
We quickly took stock of our storage and put everything away. There is a bureau, but no closet, just a few hooks on the back of the door. There is a microwave, and intermittent television on a few channels (the elevated train obscures the signal when it passes.) There is no AC, but a good window fan in the bedroom and ceiling fans in the downstairs room.
We walked down the FVM house, and met the volunteers who will be working with us this year. There are 12 in all, and 4 assigned to the Inn, 2 males and 2 females. We were warmly welcomed, and had a nice time hearing their backgrounds, assignments as well as eating good food.
Monday we were given jobs to do. Mark went along on pickups. The summer intern is leaving Thursday who has been doing that job, so Mark will be doing lots of those in the days ahead. He goes to various bakeries and grocery stores to get donations of food. I was assigned as “troubleshooter” at the Inn, which meant that whatever needed to be done, I tried to do. I helped prepare the meal, answered the door, put salads in cups, washed pots, and got things ready for the evening meal. Mark served during the meal and I kept the tea pitchers filled for the servers. We had 355 guests for dinner. Since all these people eat in 1.5 hours, you can imagine that the turnover at the 12 tables is pretty quick. After the clean up, we had Mass, then a community meal, prepared this week by the friars. Monday is the only day we have Mass in the evening. The rest of the days it is at 8:30 am. I can tell you we returned home after the meal, very tired and ready for a good night’s sleep. Despite there being a lot of street noise, plus the elevated train passes almost over our house, we are able to sleep pretty well if we have the fan on high and our white noise machine turned way up.