Tonight I spent a little time going to my old hangouts in Worcester. I grabbed a cup of coffee at a couple coffee shops where I began my freelance career back in 2008. I grabbed a glass of wine at a bar that I spent many hours with old friends in talking about the past, the future, our dreams and fears. Then I went to a branch of a local grocery store where I worked my first real job as a grocery bagger and shopping carriage pusher.
I was going in to get some basic staples for the next week and a half that I know my mom doesn’t keep in the house – fresh eggs, bread, almond butter, spinach and mustard… don’t ask, it’s a weird open faced sandwich I like to make…
I pushed my noisy, broken carriage through the isles which looked exactly the same way they did as I walked through them 16 years ago. Same lighting, same noises and probably the same 80’s music. I actually saw someone stocking shelves who I was convinced I had worked with many years ago. I don’t recall us being acquainted, so I kept walking.
I grabbed my supplies, along with two cases of my favorite Worcester original, Polar Seltzer (cranberry lime and pomegranate) and made my way to the cash register.
Before I got to the cash register, I noticed a table of marked down goods. The typical fold-out table of discounted Barbie dolls, coloring books, Crayola markers and toy-cars. Nothing on the table particularly caught my eye, but what caught my eye was a middle-aged hispanic woman, who looked very familiar, who had picked up one of the Barbie doll boxes and held it in her hands as she looked contemplatively at it. She stared at it and looked at it with the look of a woman who wanted very badly to buy a toy for a child she loved. Instead of taking the Barbie, she placed it down, glanced over the rest of the goods on the table and walked on down the isle.
This saddened me. All I could picture was someone like my own mother having to make a choice between buying food or essentials and getting a gift for a child who would love it unconditionally, regardless if it was on the discounted rack or not. The choice between food or gifts – sometimes we make so many choices we forget about the basic ones. I know I do. I wanted so badly to run down the isle with the Barbie in my hand and tell the woman I would buy it for whomever she was looking to get a gift for. That I’d purchase whatever she wanted from the table for her kids, if she had any, or maybe someone else’s children she knew who were in need and just wanted a special Christmas.
Instead, I continued my walk to the checkout line. I didn’t make the heroic, presumptive gesture. I just pushed my achingly noisy, broken cart down to the only late-night cash register that was open and began to place my goods on the conveyor belt.
As I was emptying my cart, I looked over to another fold out table, but instead of marked-down goods on it, it had about 9 brown paper bags stapled shut, with lists of about 5 things that were in them. Peanut butter, tuna fish, canned corn, pickled beats, etc. Basic, non-perishable food stuffs. I saw a small, printed sign that said “buy one of these bags for 5 dollars to help stock the shelves of the local food bank.” Suddenly memories of the Thanksgiving and Christmas mornings when my mother, sister and I would go downtown to Saint Paul’s Cathedral and help prepare and serve meals to the homeless when volunteers were needed most. It reminded me of when I was young and my mother was teaching me how to be grateful for everything I had, no matter what it was and how giving was so much more important than receiving in life.
So I decided that I’d buy one of those brown paper bags and contribute a little bit to Worcester’s local food bank. In tandem, I also decided that I’d be spending Christmas morning (again) at Saint Paul’s Cathedral helping prepare and serve meals to those in need. As I waited for my cashier to finish checking me out and placing the bag of food in a pile with other donations (the same cashier who had worked nights since I was 15) I took a minute to feel grateful. I’m grateful for so much that I have, but I’m also grateful for what I’m able to give of myself and that I have the moral compass and point of reference (familiarity) to when I felt most alive in life to remind me of what it is to feel good about Christmas and every other day of your life.
I hope all of you have an amazing Holiday with family and friends.