"Flowers Before Food"

It’s Christmas time, so Little Brothers Friends of the Elderly (LBFE) takes over the kitchen at Northeastern University to cook a ton of turkey.  Close to 400 meals were prepared on Christmas Eve, and distributed today, Christmas, to elderly individuals in the metro Boston area.  LBFE finds elders, seniors, and shut ins who don’t have any family in the area for the holidays and coordinates this impressive operation of making meals for all of them, and finding volunteers to deliver all these meals and spend time in fellowship with these lonely people on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Passover, and other holidays.  Check them out: (http://boston.littlebrothers.org/index.html )

Being my first year away from home at Thanksgiving and Christmas the opportunity jumped out at me.  I remember crying a little reading about it for Thanksgiving because I would be kind of lonely 630 miles from home, and that would be beautifully perfect to be lonely with someone else who was lonely on Thanksgiving.  I was all set to go and then Gus died (see previous post), so I came home for Thanksgiving to get through all that with some friends, but Today I did it for Christmas and it was just that.  Beautifully perfect.

I wondered around Northeastern University this morning trying to find the dining hall in the cold air.  When I saw several people coming out of a door in fancy clothes carrying paper gift bags with flowers sticking out I thought that’s the place. 

I went inside for orientation as a new volunteer and got these words of inspiration and encouragement from David.  “The world needs more of what you guys are doing here today.”  He told us how he delivered a meal on Christmas when he was in his 20s and made a friend in 83 year old Maria Crawford who he kept in touch with until she died at 103 just six years ago!  He explained how volunteering works for both people, our lives would be changed today he said, and and so will the elder we’d meet. 

Their motto is “Flowers before food” indicating that the beauty, and the companionship should come before the food.  That’s beautiful, and that is key in food justice, building relationships that are more than just food, even though it may be structured around a meal.

I went straight to the volunteer table where they give you the next elder on the list based on what part of the city we wanted to visit.  I chose downtown near the Boston Common since I could get there by train easily and they gave me a paper with Ray ____.  I went through the line, got his respective gift, flowers, and the meal, and then was on my way back on the train.

I found his apartment after several turns down the wrong side street.  He let me in and was excited from the minute I got off the elevator on his floor.  He showed me all the doctor’s business cards in his wallet, his scars from all his bladder and hernia surgeries, and then around his apartment.  I thought to myself, “I hope I become as spunky in my old daffiness as this guy, he’s pretty cool.”  We put the flowers in a vase.  He then told me the organ music playing was his wife Josephine who passed away in 2009.  He said he always sang to her playing the piano and organ and then he just belt it out right there in front of me.  “You’ll never know how much I love you…” that old frank Sinatra song he sang to her at their wedding: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4ZD_sQmCEs) even though this online recording doesn’t catch all of Ray’s passion.  He sang that song with his wife.  He still misses his wife. She died of Alzheimer’s in 2009.  It was hard on him.  It still is.  His voice was so powerful, deep, true, something I never felt listening to Frank Sinatra, even though I never much cared for Sinatra.  But that passion got deep in me and I felt his loss, with Gus so close in mind.

He said he wanted to sing one or two Christmas songs with me, I said I LOVE CHRISTMAS CAROLS! So we sang everyone in the book, and all those in the next book, and a few from the third book, and then a few more from the first book again.  It was great.  He was off beat sometimes and I was out of tune most of the time so we sounded bad most of the time, but on a few notes we’d hit it right, and look at each other and just connect with that harmony.  The neighbors must have all been out for the holidays or the sound proofing was good because no one complained.

After the Christmas songs we sang some Elvis, then he sang some on his own I’ve never heard.  His voice was beautiful, low, deep.  If you heard it break silence, it would probably scare you, it scared me at first, but it was from his heart, and that made it less scary.  They were all songs he’d sing with his wife as she played.  She was gifted.  She was musical. She was beautiful.  He showed me pictures. 

He let me lead the singing of Willie Nelson’s “Crazy.”  I didn’t tear up until we sang “Old Rugged Cross,” and “I go to the Garden Alone,” he held my hand when we sang those.  I’m tearing up now writing this.  I’m such an old man.

He had all these love songs he wanted to sing.  He sings them to some of his friends he’s met over the phone.  He still misses his wife.  He said that a lot.  We talked a about his wife, I talked a little about Gus, but we sang most of the time. That said enough.

I was depressingly cynical when I signed up. I wanted to share my loneliness with someone else while I was lonely on the holidays.  (I’m really not all that alone in real life, way too many people care about me), but today I was one of two lonely old men singing love songs and Christmas songs because those we’d love to sing them with are somewhere else.  And It felt good, and didn’t feel lonely.  It felt like I connected with something much bigger than anything either of us we’re missing.

This is Boston on Christmas.  It is special. It is true.  Glory in the Highest!