Occupy the Food Pantry

On Friday, I was helping out at the amazing River Food Pantry. The host a community meal every Friday night and open the food pantry up to anyone who needs extra food.

When I walk into the country club in my neighborhood, I instantly feel uncomfortable and uninvited. When I walked into The River, I feel welcomed, respected and valued. It is a true gem in our community. Just being near passionate, committed, dedicated people like the founders (Andy and Jenny Czerkas) restores my faith in humanity.

It was a busy Friday. I think close to 200 families came through for dinner and groceries.

Off to the side, there was a table with two wonderful volunteers who were there to register people to vote. Wisconsin just recently passed some restrictive voter-ID laws and I suspect many of the population in attendance on Friday probably do not have adequate identification for the new voting process.

But they didn't get a lot of action at their table. They basically sat for most of the night, just talking to each other. I think that maybe two or three people came to take their information. Meanwhile, the rest of us were working our tails off trying to manage the feeding/grocery procuring process.

I respect the message that the political groups forming "Occupy Wall Street" and "Recall Walker" are promoting. I admire their tenacity in gaining signatures and staging protests. I'm glad they were there on Friday and I'm glad that more people are now educated on the voting requirements.

But I think the message of the Occupy Wall Street and Recall Walker groups would be a lot stronger if they combined some action with their rhetoric. What if they came to the food pantry to register voters AND brought 20 volunteers with them to help? What if they collected signatures for recall AND collected canned goods to donate to those in need?

At one point in the night, a lovely woman who could have been me - same age, same height, same race, same jeans - came through the line. She looked at me in confusion and said "I've never been here before, I'm not sure how it all works." I told her "I'm pretty new here too, but everyone is so nice and helpful, we'll figure it out together." We instantly connected and smiled at each other and I'm fairly sure we both had the slight hint of tears welling in our eyes.

It didn't matter who was the volunteer or who needed the food or what anyone's religion or politics were. Andy and Jenny and all the other amazing employees/volunteers at the River have created a community where neighbors help neighbors and everyone wins.

There is no "99%" there. We, all of us, are the 100% and everyone is treated with love and respect. As much as I love reading all the "I am the 99%" signs, I can't help but wonder if maybe we could *all* combine a little more action with our eloquently worded signs.

Except for the hilarious one with the 2% milk. That sign can stay.

Man Up

This is my little sister. (I think it is the first photo I have published on the blog - but I have determined that it is enough from the back that no one can identify her...)

She is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. She is more generous than anyone I know. She is more polite than either of my own children. She is kind. She is responsible. She is damn smart. (although her WKCE scores may not reflect that....you will have to trust me.)

When I offer to buy her "anything in the world - anything she wants" would you like to know what she asks for? A book. She doesn't want designer jeans. She doesn't want an electronic gadget. She doesn't want the latest Harry Potter lego set. (note - those are all things that MY kids might ask for.) She just wants a book. (Really, she is that incredible.)

And she is incredibly lucky. She's lucky because she's a girl. If she were a boy, she would *still* be on the waiting list at Big Brothers/Big Sisters. The last three years of amazing experiences that we have had would be nothing but dreams.

Did you know that boys in Dane County wait over 2 years for a mentor? TWO YEARS. I think that her little brother has been on the waiting list for 3 years.

I love that the new BB/BS campaign is entitled MAN UP.

I try to explain to people that yes, being a Big takes up a lot of time. And yes, being a Big can sometimes take a little bit of money. (We aren't supposed to buy our "littles" anything, but you show me the person who can let a child live in Wisconsin without a winter coat....) And yes, being a Big can be tough. You will face things you never thought you'd be dealing with.

But it is simply impossible to explain to people how being a Big makes your heart soar. Being a Big changes everything. Being a Big gives you hope, purpose, and faith in humanity.

I've never once in my life wished I were a man. But reading the statistics about the dire lack of Big Brothers, I just wish that I could be a Big Brother.

The difference a Big Brother would make in the world - wow. I can't even come close to that.

Man Up. You could change the world. Or at least one incredible young boy's world.

Summertime and the livin' is conflicted

Big controversy here in Wisconsin over New Berlin's affordable housing plans. Affordable housing and poverty are two big interests of mine, so I read all the articles carefully. I was fine until I got to the comments on the local paper's story. Now, I realize that people who comment on newpapers on-line are their own special kind of crazy. But blatant mean-spiritedness of the comments shocked me. Who writes that stuff????

I think there is a fundamental disconnect between the reality of poverty and the perception of poverty.

People aren't poor simply because they are lazy or stupid. But it must be awfully convenient to believe that, because then you can probably wash your hands of trying to *do* something to solve the problem.

My "little's" family is going through some unbloggable stuff right now. I can sum it up in two simple words: poverty sucks. Suffice it to say that most of us would have trouble walking a block in the shoes of a family struggling to find a place to live and put food on the table, never mind a mile.

I live in a neighborhood that is statistically both whiter and richer than New Berlin. Affordable housing will come to my neighborhood when pigs fly.

So I struggle internally in the summer, moving frequently between the housing projects and the country club. Note: I am not a member of the country club. I'll join when they offer subsidized memberships for low income families. I refuse to join any organization that won't accept my Little. (See any pigs flying, yet? No, me neither.)

For years, I kept my Little away from neighborhood events. It's just awkward and not that fun for her to be the one and only non-rich-white person in attendance. But maybe that's a mistake. Maybe if people got to know her, they'd learn that she is smart and beautiful and hard-working.

Maybe people are prejudiced against the poor only because they don't have any true friends who are poor?

But how will we ever change that if people (myself included here) segregate ourselves by where we live?

Northside Family Restaurant Values

To celebrate the last days of elementary school, my mother (visiting from MD) offered to take daughter D to any restaurant in Madison - cost was no object. Anywhere she wanted to go!

I started salivating. We have some pretty awesome restaurants in Madison. L'Etoile! Harvest! Fresco!

But my daughter had something else in mind. She named a strip-mall restaurant, down the street from us.

"Oh sweetie," I said, "We can go there any time. This is a special dinner! You only 'graduate' from elementary school once! Pick somewhere nice!"

But she held to her guns. See, last week her class received a nice surprise from this restaurant. The waitresses at the restaurant, together with the owner, pooled their money together to donate hundreds of dollars to the 4th/5th grade field trip to Green Bay. Then, the owner paid for a school bus to go to the school and bring the kids to his restaurant, where he offered them ANYTHING ON THE MENU. For free. The kids were beyond excited.

He explained to the kids that he came to the U.S. from Armenia and when he arrived, people were kind and helped him out. He wanted to give back to the country that gave him so much, and was reaching out to our school to do that.

In no uncertain terms, my 11-year-old daughter told me that he had something more important than a fancy menu with over-priced wines. He had character and values.

So we went. To the unpretentious strip-mall restaurant. Where we had a lovely dinner. (And bonus: turns out they serve Spotted Cow!)

As we left, my son turned to me and said, "You know, that restaurant doesn't look like much on the outside. But inside, where it counts, it is really nice."

I blinked back a few tears (mothers are allowed to be a bit overly emotional when their eldest is leaving elementary school behind, no?) and told him that was exactly right. And I was so very glad that my daughter didn't listen to my recommendation to go to the fancy restaurant instead.

I'd like to think that I'm the one teaching my kids that what is on the inside matters more than what is on the outside. But I suspect that perhaps, they are the ones teaching me.

Solidarity Forever

It is rare for me to concur with David Brooks. But in this column, directed at college graduates, I found something we agree on. He says that graduates are being told:

"Follow your passion, chart your own course, march to the beat of your own drummer, follow your dreams and find yourself. This is the litany of expressive individualism, which is still the dominant note in American culture."

He continues:

"The graduates are also told to pursue happiness and joy. But, of course, when you read a biography of someone you admire, it’s rarely the things that made them happy that compel your admiration. It’s the things they did to court unhappiness — the things they did that were arduous and miserable, which sometimes cost them friends and aroused hatred. It’s excellence, not happiness, that we admire most."

We all want the best for our children. But what if it turns out that providing them with the best of everything isn't the answer? What if allowing them to experience some of the struggles that life invariably contains, actually helps them?

Last night, we went to the school picnic of the middle school that daughter D will attend next year. The school has a 71% poverty rate, so most of our neighbors choose to attend a private school, or open-enroll to another public middle school.

But while we were there, we met a group of 7th graders who went down to New Orleans to do an incredible service learning project. We also met a really neat young man who demonstrated his complicated science fair project in both English and Spanish. (Something I certainly could not do....either the science or the Spanish!)

Finally, we headed downtown to the interfaith coalition solidarity singalong.

I know there will be enormous obstacles in the upcoming year. There will continue to be unique challenges at a high-poverty school.

But standing with my fellow Madisonians at the Capitol last night, singing "We shall not be moved" and "Solidarity Forever," it felt, for a few minutes, like we were part of a community that valued the rights of all citizens over the individual happiness of a select few. I felt hope.

David Brooks should come a sing a few verses with us.