Volunteer

That was fun!

 

It's Sunday night and I just got home from a two-hour stint at a local charity.  I had called up and offered to volunteer one evening a week, and tonight was my first night.

 

More precisely, it is a home-style setting where the homeless and terminally ill can come to die.  It was originally set up back in the 1980's to serve those dying from HIV; but as that diagnosis became more manageable and less often lethal, they expanded their charter to other conditions that kill people.  I'm not quite sure the exact parameters, but I think they may include old age on that list, if there's reason to believe you have only a few more weeks.

 

How could this be fun?  Well, they create a home-like environment because it is more comfortable for the guests.  That means, among other things, serving dinner around a common table every night at 6:00.  And they ask for volunteers to help with dinner: preparing it, serving it, eating it (because that means joining the guests communally in a cheerful way), and then cleaning up afterwards.

 

I read about them a few weeks ago in the local paper; then I looked them up online; and when I got to the part where they ask for volunteers to help with dinner, I thought, "Hell, I can do that!"

 

Because of course, in many ways this call is perfect for me.  If I were going to volunteer to do anything, what could be better?  You already know how strongly I believe in what you could call "the spirituality of the dinner table" – heaven knows I wrote enough about it when Wife and I and the boys all lived together.  The kitchen and the dining room are as close as anything to my natural habitat.  And these days, with the boys both back in school, I have no-one else to cook or clean up for.  So it seems like an obvious match.

 

Or at any rate, it's an obvious match given the premise that I'm going to volunteer to do something charitable.  Why am I doing that?

 

It's hard for me to be sure.  But for a while now I've been trying to map out a new life for myself.  A year ago I spent a lot of time going to artistic events – theater, music, receptions, lectures – and it was fun but I found myself getting tired and wanting to sit home quietly more and more.  So yes, I wanted more art to be part of my life but it couldn't make up the whole of it.  Then there was meditation, which yes I am still doing most every day; but some people make the dharma their whole lives, and I don't really feel myself wanting to do that either.  There was the relationship with Debbie; but that's over and I don't want another romantic relationship right now.  What then?  Well actually I have been thinking about volunteering at something in the background all this while.  I don't suppose I can give a strong reason Why except … hell, why not?  If I can do some good without doing harm, and maybe get off my ass and out into the world once in a while, isn't that a win all around?  Also, I kept seeing that people I love and admire – Debbie and my relatives out of state, to name a few – have a lot more social involvement than I do and it seems to be a good thing.  But it was hard for me to put any kind of shape on this inchoate imagining.  There are a lot of charities out there, and I didn't have a strong prior commitment to one over another.  Some people might use this as a trigger to launch themselves into the world of non-profits, talking to everyone they know in order to learn a lot more … but those would be people who are nowhere near as shy as I am, not to mention a good bit less lazy.

 

And so it sat with my imagining that maybe volunteering would be A Good Thing To Do, but having no idea nor motivation for how to do it … until I saw a website asking for people to help with dinner.  And I figured, If ever there were going to be a volunteer opportunity specifically written for me – this is it.  Time to pick up the phone.

 

So I called them on Friday.  They called me back today (Sunday) saying that they have volunteers during the week but they have nobody on Saturdays and they have someone who shows up only intermittently on Sundays.  They also try to schedule volunteers for only one day a week.  So I asked them to put me down for Saturdays, but how about if I came over this evening to get a look round and maybe pitch in?  Sounds great.  See you then.

 

So I did.  They started me with simple stuff: set the table, take out the trash.  Then they had me de-bone a turkey (left over from some previous dinner) … which was great until I was nearly done and cut my finger.  It wouldn't stop bleeding, so finally the cook put an antibiotic cream on it and wrapped it in a couple of hefty bandages.  Then he put me to sorting pinto beans, where I couldn't hurt myself.

 

There were only two guests at dinner (plus one who ate in her room), along with the two residential assistants and me.  The conversation turned to cooking, so I told a couple of funny stories at my own expense about failed experiments I had tried in the kitchen.  It was pleasant all around.  After we ate, the residential assistants wouldn't let me wash dishes because the water would make my bandages come off; so I cleared the table and put things away; then before I could leave one of them filled a bag with organic produce that had been donated to the house, sending me home with a week's worth of vegetables.  As I left, they thanked me for helping out … which I still can't understand because I don't think I did all that much, and I got out of it far more than I contributed: a lovely kitchen to work in, a better dinner than I would have made for myself, pleasant people to talk with, and a bunch of free produce.  Shouldn't I be the one thanking them?  Yes, I think so.  And I did.  I'm also looking forward to next Saturday.