Goodie Bags

A couple times a week--and always during Thursday Cafe--we give out "goodie bags"--i.e. sacks of stuff such as Beenee Weenees, sports drinks, Spam, crackers, etc.--stuff that a person can eat if he or she doesn't have electricity, water, or even a plate for that matter. Anyone who's homeless gets a goodie bag. The typical homeless person is a middle-aged man who lives in a vehicle, lean-to, or tent. Generally speaking, all across the U.S., this is the case.

We used to give a goodie bag to everyone who came to a meal, but the cost became prohibitive. The numbers proved that it was costing almost as much to do goodie bags as it was to pull off the whole meal, so we got back to our original intent: to make sure our homeless guys had something to eat when they couldn't get to us or some other resource, when they needed something in their belly and had nothing.

There's something about handing out goodie bags that I just love; i feel like Santa's elf, and the guys act like 10-year olds with a new toy. I have to be discreet about it, not only to protect their dignity but also so that we don't end up with a stampede of folks pretending to be homeless so they, too, can have a goodie bag--so I make the rounds quietly after the food line opens up, while everyone's busy with their chicken and dumplings or sloppy joes, talking among themselves and looking forward to cake. After all these years, Kenny and I have developed a sixth sense regarding the homeless, we can spot 'em six blocks away, and yet there's always room for error--so one of our regulars, C., helps me out each week. "Don't forget Mike," he'll say. "He's new around here, and he's living in his truck."

Stealthy as a cat burglar, I'll go from table to table, depositing a bag in each recipient's lap or next to his chair. Yesterday evening I distributed about a dozen while getting similar responses: "Oh, man, I love these things!" "You never know what's gonna be in your bag, it's so cool." "The Spam is my favorite."

"Does it feel like Christmas?" I asked one fellow as he grappled with his bag, trying to see what was in it. "Yeah, it does," he answered. "Every week."