The Guests, Part 2

We call them guests, the people that come to our meals, and they are certanly that.
we serve them a sit down meal, every day of the week, just like they were customers at a restaurant. Sometimes I think of them as clients, or as recipients, or as blessings, but always they are individuals....people, each with a story.

One of the first of the guests that I noticed when we came to the St. Frances Inn was a tall, muscular, man named Bill. Bill is 63 and a little scruffy looking (unkempt beard, a Jack Daniels headband, longish hair), but he also is friendly. We quickly learned each other's names, and eventually he told me his story. He used to be a New Jersey State Trooper (and still has a license to carry a gun) with a family. One day in 1974 a drunk driver hit and killed his wife and his older child. The driver was charged with vehicular manslaughter, but a good lawyer got him off with only a suspended sentence and got his driver's license back almost immediately. Bill was so incensed at the verdict that he threw his Trooper's badge at the judge and resigned from the police force on the spot.

The next 16 years were a blur, lost in drink, meth, go-go clubs, and bars. Amazingly, Bill was able to balance this life with a tow truck and garage business, getting an average of 2 hours of sleep per night. Finally, in 1989, he quit drinking and using drugs "because I didn't want to live like that anymore". Around that time, he also began coming to the St. Frances Inn because the people were friendly and many of his street friends also came here to get a meal. He has stayed around and now is a source of help for others. These include "the 96 old lady that lives behind me" and "the couple with two retarded children who live next door". He brings them food from the Inn sometimes or helps them with odd jobs. Bill still has his tow truck and a garage and occasionally works or leases out his truck to others, but spends most of his time on the street and at the Inn. When I asked him why he does this, he told me: "This is my famly now, and these are my friends. I like helping people out when I can."

Bill's story surprised me. I look upon most of the people who come to us as "needy", but am discovering that this need comes in many forms. Certainly we have our share of addicts, mentally retarded people, immigrants, and others that society views as disadvantaged. However, there are also some, like Bill, for whom this is their community in which each plays a useful and positive role. Chalk up another lesson for Mark...stay tuned, I am ssure that I have much more to learn about this unique place called the St. Frances Inn.

Aging with Grace

One of the unexpected benefits of working at St. Francis Inn is getting to know women religious. Other than the wonderful Maryvale Community in Lincoln County, Mark and I have had little contact with women religious during the past 35 years. There are a number of Sisters that we have come to know and admire.
Sister Jude is a Sister of the Holy Family of Nazareth. She was a college art professor for many years before becoming a visiting nurse. Now, at 77, she works 3 days a week at the Inn and always cooks the dinner on Wednesday. It is amazing to see this septuagenarian baking chicken for 300.
Sister Mary, an Alleghany Franciscan, 73 years old and Sr. Leslie,68, a Sister of St. Francis of Philadelphia, both began their ministry in education. At some point they both decided to work with the poor and served at women's shelters in New York and Boston. In the early '90's they came to Kensington. They organize the rest of us, clean, carry loads, and help the guests. Their energy puts me to shame.
Another Sister comes on Tuesday and Thursday and helps with the breakfast for the guests. She and her twin sister are both Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, founded by St. Katharine Drexel here in Philadelphia. The order was founded to serve Native American and African-American children, and Sister Margaret,87, spent most of her ministry serving at reservations in the Southwestern U.S. She just celebrated her 60th anniversary as a sister.
I think the positive outlook these Sisters exude and the energy they have that allows them to help others are partially products of a life of prayer, reflection, and happiness in their choice of a vocation.

Musings on a cold, rainy day

We are having 2 northeasters back to back. The first one hit on Thursday, our day off. We knew it would be rainy with a high of 48, so we had planned to go to a movie and hear a lecture on Mayan birds. However, Br. Fred was going to New York City to the motherhouse, and asked if we wanted to come along. The only problem was that he was leaving at 5:30 am. The time was not a problem, so off we went and we were at the friary about 7:30. We ate breakfast at a diner, then Mark and I got on the subway at Penn Station and headed for the Statue of Liberty. We had not planned enough in advance to go up in the crown, but we did go inside the monument and had a wonderful time despite the cool, wet day.
Today was the third day of rain, and the sewer started to back up into the basement of the Inn. Mark and Br. Fred spent about 4 hours with the shop vac getting the water out of the basement until the plumber arrived. Apparently the flooding occurs a few times a year.
I was out in the yard giving out tickets for the meal. Most of the guests were adequately clothed, but one young mother arrived with her 3 children, the youngest being born last Saturday. Another woman was wearing flip flops. I had on two pairs of socks, and was ready to give her one of my pairs, but she took off before I could offer. One man, walking with a cane, came up to me and said he had a problem The tongue of his shoe was stuck down too far, and he needed it lifted out and the shoe retied. He was not agile enough to squat down, do it himself, and get back up. I told him I would do it, and was somewhat shocked to discover he didn't have a foot in the shoe. He was either an amputee or had a clubfoot. I fixed the shoe, and he was so grateful. It was a really humbling experience.
Finally, Mark got his first haircut today since arriving. There is a barber across the street who cuts hair for $5.00. He doesn't speak English, but he has pictures of men with various haircuts on the wall, and you point to one and he does the cut. I went along to watch, and try to intervene if the barber went crazy with the shears. The cut actually looks pretty good.

It's a Girl!

We were very excited to hear that we are grandparents again. Our first grandaughter, Catherine Ann Zedek, was born today at 5:17. She was two weeks early, and weighed 5 pounds 9 ounces. Mom, Dad and baby are all doing well. We were sorry we could not be their for the birth, but we will be going to Georgia in about 10 days and will meet our little cherub at that time.

The Veteran Volunteer

There are lots of “characters” who are integral to the community that staff the St. Francis Inn. One of the first I met was Joe. He is a tall, thin, African American man with graying hair and beard. Joe moves carefully with obvious effort, and I quickly surmised that he lives in varying amounts of pain. For some reason, Joe and I quickly developed a bond. He’s at the Inn several days a week beginning at 6:30 am, and so for the first few days after Thea and I arrived, I would see him and say something like: “Another day with the same people -- It is amazing that we cannot get a better quality of volunteer here at the Inn!” He would come back with a quick retort, maybe something like: “I know, we are especially weak in volunteers from North Carolina!”

After we’d been here about two weeks, Joe asked a favor. Would I please drive him the VA Hospital for a procedure? He is on dialysis and one of the veins through which he gets his medicine was swollen. I said that I would be happy to do this, and early on a Wednesday morning, we headed out. As I drove, Joe told me his story. He grew up in Philadelphia and after high school enlisted in the Army. Soon he found himself in the middle of the Vietnam War, serving as an NCO on a Hawk missile battery during the middle 1960’s. One day, the jeep in which he and his missile crew were riding hit a land mine. The explosion was horrific, and the next thing Joe knew, he woke up in a hospital, having been in a coma for 4 days. His companions were killed, except for one who lost a leg.

Joe was shipped home to the west coast and spent nearly a year in rehab. There was internal damage to many organs including his kidneys; both legs were filled with shrapnel; and he had to learn to walk again. After finally being discharged from the hospital, Joe chose not to immediately go home: he did not want his family to see him in his weakened state. This gives you some insight into the strong, proud core of this dignified man. Instead, Joe worked his way across country as a ranch hand, and this allowed him to build up his strength.

Eventually he returned home with fully restored health and took a job with the Pennsylvania Rail Road. Unfortunately after working there eight years, there was a terrible accident: Joe was thrown from a moving train and experienced severe injuries including a mangled right leg which required surgery. Again he was disabled, this time permanently. After a period of convalescence, it became clear that he could no longer work, and so he settled down with his disability payments to live out his life, a life, which because of his various medical ailments which now included heart problems, knee pain, and kidney disease, seemed increasingly bleak.

But shortly thereafter, while riding the "El" (our nickname for the elevated train which is part of Philly’s subway) along Kensington Avenue, Joe noticed a long line of people queued up in front of an old building. Curious, he went back to the place –which turned out to be the St. Francis Inn – and asked what they did there. The staff explained, and Joe began volunteering as his health allowed. That was 18 years ago, and Joe is still here. He comes in on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. The other days he gets dialysis treatments: his war-damaged kidneys finally failed a couple of years ago.

When he is at the Inn, Joe does a variety of tasks, mostly having to do with bagging and processing the thousands of pieces of bread and baked goods that the Inn receives each week. He also is so knowledgeable about the Inn that he basically helps “train” all the volunteers --- such as Thea and me – who rotate in and out of the place.

As I write this, I am sitting in the Presbyterian Hospital of Philadelphia, waiting for Joe to finish yet another procedure. On the way here, Joe was cracking jokes, bantering with me and VA van driver assigned to us, and pointing out places of interest in Philly to me as we passed. I thought to myself how amazing this was. If I had as many medical concerns as Joe, I would be holed up in my house feeling sorry for myself, but this guy approaches life with a gritty smile, determination, and a positive, “get up and go” attitude. He even takes time, a significant amount of time each week, to help others. It is impressive.

Last time we were together, I asked Joe why he volunteers so much at the St. Francis Inn. His reply: “It keeps me going and gives me a reason to get up in the morning!” As I grow older, I certainly hope that I (and all of us) will always seek reasons to “get up in the morning”, even when it is far easier to sit and vegetate.

Certainly, this is God’s plan for Thea and me and if everyone did this, it would make our world a far better place.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

We have stated in our blog and various emails that much of the work here is very physical. The Inn does get inspected like any other restaurant, and we have certain standards of health and safety we have to meet. After every meal, we sweep, mop, wipe downn all tables, chairs, counters, remove garbage, recycle lots of plastic, cardboard, and aluminum. However, since we are open 7 days a week, we don't have the advantage of a closing to do more extensive cleaning. Therefore, we have "cleaning Mondays" on the first Monday of each month. This is when walls, the refrigerator, windows, stoves and other big items get cleaned. Due to Labor Day, we missed this day in September. So last Monday we had our first experience, and Mark and I were very happy to have a chance to make war on dirt. I chose to clean a rolling counter in and out, and to get the caked-on grime that covered two high chairs and booster chairs. Mark volunteered to get behind the two stoves, tilt skillet and large kettle. He was thin enough to get on the floor behind these appliances and scrub the accumulated grease, roaches and whatever else was back there. He worked over 3 hours on this area, and generally impressed the entire staff. Depending on whom we talked to, it had not been done for somewhere between 8 months and 2 years. When he emerged from his battle on filth, he looked like he had been in a war zone. His face and clothes were black, his hands were raw, and his muscles were sore. I wish I had my camera with me!

Yes or No?

We need rules and laws. Society would be chaos without them. Even at a place like St. Francis Inn there are rules: meals are served only at specific times, the office is open on a fixed schedule, and so on. If a homeless person has a need outside of these times, we are not supposed to respond. Why? Because if there were no office hours, there would be a constant barrage of requests 24/7, and the institution would collapse. As it is, the Inn serves meals seven days per week and there are office hours every day of the year when we deal with all sorts of needs.

I (Mark)understand this -- I am basically a legalistic, rule-following person, EXCEPT when presented with the face of a person in need. Then, it is tough. For example, last week, I was walking near the St. Francis Inn when I was approached by a man asking for money. I always lean toward saying "yes and casting my bread on the water", and a quick look at the guy's cloths and demeanor seemed to indicate that he was really in need. But the Inn's rule is that you never give money to the homeless because it is often used to buy drugs or alcohol. So, I said "No", feeling guilty.

Several days later, Thea and I were in the Inn at 3 PM getting organized for the evening pick ups. The doorbell rang, but since it was outside of normal office hours, we didn't answer. A few minutes later, we had finished our tasks and left the to go to our house, next door. Two young men were standing outside, obviously the people who had rung the bell. They said that they were hungry, having walked several miles to the Inn, but had missed the meal. Was there any way that they could get something -- anything -- to eat. While I was still deciding on how to respond, Thea said " Sure!". And, instantly, my own reluctance vanished: why shouldn't we respond? We both knew that the next meal the Inn would be serving would not be until Monday afternoon @ 4:30 -- more than 24 hours in the future.

Quickly, Thea and I went back inside and in a few minutes had made a couple of roast beef sandwiches, assembled some packaged bread, desserts, and drink. We placed the whole thing in a plastic bag, tossed in a couple pieces of fruit and presented the meal to the two guys. Their thanks was genuine, eye to eye, heart to heart. I felt really blessed by the spirit of Christ in the response.

Reflecting on this issue today, I realize that rules are still necessary but that we must apply them in a spirit of love and compassion. There are many times when a "no" really is the best answer, but there are also times when the rules must be bent. Each instance and request is unique and must be evaluated given the situation.

I see all of the staff and volunteers at the St. Francis Inn, even the longtimers who have been here 20 and 30 years, struggling to keep a balance between "yes" & "no", using as their guide the example of Jesus and St. Frances. It is not such an easy thing to do, but I know that if we truly have the best interests of our clients at heart, Christ can work through each of us.

The Guests, Part I

Mark and I have not talked specifically about any of the guests on this blog. We want to preserve their privacy, but at the same time they are very much a part of our lives here, much like my students were. We give to them, but they give us a great deal as well. So we have decided we will share some of their stories, but will change their names to protect their privacy.
The first or second day that I served a meal at the Inn, I noticed a man in his mid-fifties, with nicely cut gray hair. With his pressed khakis, Italian leather shoes and clean shirt, he looked more like a businessman on casual Friday than a person who needed a meal. The next time I saw him I introduced myself and told him I was from North Carolina. "Sean" is a native Philadelphian, and a living guidebook for places to see in the Philly area. He told us about the museums, gardens, churches, you name it. He had been to Charlotte on business in the past, so knew a little about that city. It turns out that "Sean's" parents became very ill, and he took a leave of absence from Chase Manhattan bank about a year ago to take care of them. When they died and he returned, the bank was laying people off and he lost his job. He is too young for social security or a retirement package without penalty, so he is trying to get by with unemployment money as long as he can. In a few months he can tap into his pension plan He has made a few friends among the other guests. One of these is "Harry." "Harry" is 85, lives nearby and is a WWII veteran. He served in the Navy in North Africa, Italy and the Pacific. He walks to the Inn, and spends some days at the senior citizen center downt he street. He brags that the other guests refer to "Sean" and himself as the "intelligentsia" because almost every question they are asked about sports or history they are able to answer. "Harry" has had numerous surgeries for cancer, but his mind is very good and he always has a funny story to tell. I think the Inn gives him a good social outlet.
I got to know "Jenny" at the Thrift Store when I was working one day. She is about 18 and has a one year old baby girl. She had a voucher from the Inn for baby clothes and household items like dishes,sheets, curtains, etc. She was very forthright about her past, doing drugs and getting pregnant. Once she discovered she was pregnant, she stopped taking drugs and has been drug-free. Unfortunately, the damage was done for her baby, who was born with one lung, reversed blood vessels and a faulty heart. Because the baby's illness and "Jenny" having to be home with her, she does get some state and federal money to help support them. She has rented an apartment with a basement and 2 bedrooms, and is planning to rent out the extra room and basement. She needed furniture, but we don't carry any. As luck would have it, the next time I saw her she had gotten furniture from a woman she had met on a bus who was in the process of moving to Florida. Last Wednesday the baby had open heart surgery to repair the heart. I have not seen "Jenny" since the surgery to learn the outcome.

Feast of St. Francis

October 4 is a special day to the Franciscan friars, sisters and lay people associated with the St. Francis Inn. Francis lived 800 years ago, but it is amazing how relevant his renunciation of possessions and power in medieval Italy is today in the United States and other consumer cultures. The Franciscans have two celebrations in his honor. The first occurred on the evening of Oct. 3. It is called the "Transitus" and celebrates Francis crossing over from life to eternal life. We went to the Motherhouse of the Franciscan Sisters of Philadelphia. They have a beautiful stone residence south of Philly near the Delaware border. The order was founded by Bishop (St.) John Neuman, and at its peak had 1500 sisters. Today there are about 450. We sat in their beautiful darkened chapel, and the Paschal candle was taken in procession to the front. Then an unlit candle, representing Francis, was carried forward and lit. Various sisters read parts of the Francis' biography depicting his last few days on earth and we sang a song written by one of the sisters that told of his life. Finally, when the part relating Francis' actual death was read, the candle was extinguished, but then a light was passed to each of us (we had tapers like on Holy Saturday)and we represented the followers of Francis. Francis heard the voice of Christ from the crucifix in San Damiano church, who said, "Repair my house." Francis came to realize that this did not mean just the physical building, but the people of God who needed attention. In 1206 they were the lepers and beggars. Today they are the homeless, those with AIDS, the immigrants, and others that our society casts out.
On Sunday, we started our day, as always, with the Eucharist. Br. Fred had decorated the altar beautifully with autumn flowers and pumpkins, gourds, etc. Mark, Barb and Sr. Mary led the music, including a rousing final hymn that was "Canticle of the Sun."
At the meal, we let the guests take home a whole dessert (an entire cake, pie, box of cookies, etc) as well as gave each child a book of his choice.
Finally, at 5:30 we had our own community meal. Mark made 12 lb of mashed potatoes, and I made broccoli casserole. We had a huge number of desserts as well.