So I was at the soup kitchen on Sunday. First, take a moment, breathe. Me, doing selfless charitable acts?
Anyway, moving along. So it's relatively easy going at the soup kitchen. Set everything up, people come in, get them what they need, strike up polite conversation, it's all smooth. One highlight was when a homeless woman said, "If you're going to be homeless, be homeless in style."
But the main focus is that this skinny white kid sauntered in, eyes to the ground. Something about him caught my attention. First, a young skinny white kid in a Memphis soup kitchen stands out. He looked really familiar though, when I realized he looked exactly like my cousin.
Back story for me and my cousin, Anthony. We grew up like brothers, and being born only 2 weeks apart we might as well have been. We even looked the same, skinny little blonde kids. We both went separate directions in life, his going to heroin, multiple stints in prison (where he currently is), I obviously went in what is hopefully the opposite direction.
So I talk to the kid, his name is Jade, a perpetually down on his luck 20-something. I asked if there was anything I could do for him, which is something frowned upon there, singling someone out for help, but I just couldn't help it. He didn't ask for anything, he just asked that I pray for him.
Now me and prayer have never gotten along so well. Hard as it is to believe, I am a Christian, I do believe in God, but being brought up in the church, and having a lot of bad public prayer experiences, I just don't do it. But I did for this kid, I told him I would and I wasn't going to lie to him.
For that I'm going to go to the soup kitchen the Sunday before Christmas, they say they're always in desperate need of people down there, and it's a good place to be, the people who run it are extremely nice, and the people who show up are all kinds of wonderful.
On a different note...
I'm disappearing for a month.
National Novel Writing Month starts in less than 24 hours. 30 days. One Novel.
When I write I turn into a hermit. Writing is my love, my passion, and that means for the next 30 days my novel is the most important thing going on with me. Check in with www.toleary.typepad.com for novel excerpts and updates on how my word count is going (Have to have at least 50,000 at the end of the month). If you want to drop me a line, send me a message, I'll get back to you eventually.
Until December, take care of yourselves, I'll see you on the other side.
Here is what you do. You ease yourself into a tub of water, you ease yourself down. You lie back and wait for the ripples to smooth away. Then you take a deep breath, and slide your head under, and listen for the playfulness of your heart. - Amy Hempel "In a Tub"
Anyway, moving along. So it's relatively easy going at the soup kitchen. Set everything up, people come in, get them what they need, strike up polite conversation, it's all smooth. One highlight was when a homeless woman said, "If you're going to be homeless, be homeless in style."
But the main focus is that this skinny white kid sauntered in, eyes to the ground. Something about him caught my attention. First, a young skinny white kid in a Memphis soup kitchen stands out. He looked really familiar though, when I realized he looked exactly like my cousin.
Back story for me and my cousin, Anthony. We grew up like brothers, and being born only 2 weeks apart we might as well have been. We even looked the same, skinny little blonde kids. We both went separate directions in life, his going to heroin, multiple stints in prison (where he currently is), I obviously went in what is hopefully the opposite direction.
So I talk to the kid, his name is Jade, a perpetually down on his luck 20-something. I asked if there was anything I could do for him, which is something frowned upon there, singling someone out for help, but I just couldn't help it. He didn't ask for anything, he just asked that I pray for him.
Now me and prayer have never gotten along so well. Hard as it is to believe, I am a Christian, I do believe in God, but being brought up in the church, and having a lot of bad public prayer experiences, I just don't do it. But I did for this kid, I told him I would and I wasn't going to lie to him.
For that I'm going to go to the soup kitchen the Sunday before Christmas, they say they're always in desperate need of people down there, and it's a good place to be, the people who run it are extremely nice, and the people who show up are all kinds of wonderful.
On a different note...
I'm disappearing for a month.
National Novel Writing Month starts in less than 24 hours. 30 days. One Novel.
When I write I turn into a hermit. Writing is my love, my passion, and that means for the next 30 days my novel is the most important thing going on with me. Check in with www.toleary.typepad.com for novel excerpts and updates on how my word count is going (Have to have at least 50,000 at the end of the month). If you want to drop me a line, send me a message, I'll get back to you eventually.
Until December, take care of yourselves, I'll see you on the other side.
Here is what you do. You ease yourself into a tub of water, you ease yourself down. You lie back and wait for the ripples to smooth away. Then you take a deep breath, and slide your head under, and listen for the playfulness of your heart. - Amy Hempel "In a Tub"