A meal and a smile

WEEK 25

Food is the ultimate human connector. A hot meal brings warmth, nourishes, sustains life. This week, I was fortunate to join a group of colleagues for a half-day of volunteering, delivering meals (or “sunshine” as our group lead called it) to homebound seniors on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Over my life, I’ve volunteered in many capacities, and have always wanted to contribute to a community activity centered around feeding those less fortunate. So, when I read an officer poster calling for volunteers on Wednesday morning, I cancelled my meetings and signed up.

The day arrived with a record low 22 degrees — time to move the winter coats to the front-hall closet. I woke early, swaddled myself beyond recognition in a down jacket, scarf, gloves, warm socks and boots, and rode the subway to 86^th Street to meet my colleagues at the Church of St. Paul/St. Andrew. The basement was alive with activity as meal coordinators packaged the hot and cold meals into large, insulated carry bags.

We learned about the operation. Meals on Wheels is a phenomenal global organization with a decades-long history, having started in the UK after World War II. New York City’s Citymeals-on-Wheels began in 1981, and now delivers millions of meals annually to mostly elderly individuals (the average age is 85) who are unable to purchase or prepare their own food. It’s also an opportunity to check in with these seniors, more than half of whom live alone, and may be isolated even in a city as populated as New York.

We broke into teams of three, each receiving a list of names and addresses for 15 people living in nearby buildings. Our team — Sammy, Christine and I — read down the names and addresses and came up with a walking plan. We had five buildings within a several block radius, spanning 89^th to 91^st Streets, between Columbus and Broadway.

With bags over our shoulders and hats pulled down over our ears, we headed out into a brilliant blue-sky morning.

We stopped first at a senior housing building—the Goddard Riverside—a tall, red brick, elevator building with small apartments clustered on long hallways, and a social center on the ground floor listing a range of activities for the locals. We visited five people – Angela, Manuel, Vesselka, Shirley and Norma – and in nearly every case, our knocks were answered with big smiles and delight in receiving the meals we handed to them.

Some arrived at the door by wheelchair, others with their walkers. Some opened the door only enough for us to hand them the wrapped meal trays and ask a few questions—how are they doing and feeling? Manuel invited us in, and shared a few minutes of stories in a combination of English and Spanish of his life in Cuba, his recent heart surgery in New York and introduced us to his parakeet and fish. Norma wore a bright patterned house coat and was all smiles, calling us girls and waving after us as we walked down the hallway.

Next, we visited Iris across the street, and the doorman knew exactly where we were headed as we announced ourselves. That gave me a good feeling, knowing that despite being homebound, many of these seniors live in buildings with a watchful and caring presence. Especially as the majority of our deliveries were to women, I wanted to know they are safe.

Back across the street, we tried to find Ellen and Mirta, neither of whom was home. That was a bit stressful as the meal coordinator asked us to do everything possible to hand the meals directly to the person. Despite our best efforts knocking on doors and calling by phone, we left their meals at the front desk.

Our last two stops were at the Wise Towers senior center, run by the New York City Housing Authority, where we met Kenny, Deborah, Juana, Felicita and the Nunez couple. Some of our seniors spoke only Spanish, and we did our best to check-in. In all cases, our deliveries brought wide smiles and warm chit-chat. I tried to picture this from their perspectives, each day opening the door to a different group of strangers holding meals in their outstretched arms.

We headed back to the church, our carry bags lighter, and met up with the rest of our colleagues, all of us feeling fulfilled. It was a beautiful and heartwarming couple of hours. Although we played only a very small part in what I imagine to be a massive operation preparing, cooking and packaging hundreds of meals a day — not to mention organizing newbie volunteers every morning to fan out across the neighborhood — it felt wonderful to contribute and connect with fellow New Yorkers. I remember each of them, and can hear their voices and see their warm faces. I hope they enjoyed their food.