You'd think that after 20 some odd years in this crazy world, I would've realized that my ability to judge people on first meet is clearly horrible. Well, think again. There I was, only a couple of days removed from my 22nd birthday, running around the food pantry already giving into my immature habits. There was this guy volunteering with us, looked like a rough and tough New Yorker- had a bluetooth headset, scarf, long black jacket, looked like a bouncer... you get the picture. That was enough for me to just assume what his personality would be like - abrasive- and I guessed that he was volunteering for a superficial reason.
Of course, I was wrong (otherwise this entry would make no sense). On our third day at the pantry, we had a Christmas dinner where presents were presented and dinner was dined. I had a chance to speak with this guy in the kitchen and slowly found out more about his life and, more importantly, everything that he did in addition to volunteering. He told me he was a stock trader, which didn't surprise me at all- he looked pretty well off, and that he has a lot of free time now because he can work from home. What he told me next was just simply amazing. You know how as a child, you'd write a wish list to Santa and send it in the mail to the 'North Pole.' Well, the Post Office collects all of these and puts them in a huge pile. This guy and his friend, an attorney, go pick the letters and divide them up between kids who are wishing for PS3s, XBox's and all of that stuff from kids who are wishing for gloves, beds, clothes, and socks among other items most of us would be, to put it lightly, not thrilled to get for Christmas. Then, they go out and buy most of this stuff (even the mattress sets which are pretty expensive) and pray that the return address on the letters is correct. On Christmas day, him and his friend play Santa and deliver the gifts to everyone by hand. Imagine having a letter written to the 'North Pole' answered as a child. Even as a non-Christian, I think I now understand the full nature of Christmas spirit. And moreover, I don't think I'll be judging anyone so quickly anytime soon.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Scientology and Me
We were fortunate enough to have some extra time to spend in Manhattan today and yesterday.
Yesterday, as any good tourist does, we were sure to visit Times Square. On our way through the over crowded sidewalks, while being blinded by overly flashy, animated billboards, we were offered an advertisement bill. Ajay and I, without thinking, passed right by. However, about two steps later Ajay stopped dead in his tracks. I heard him mutter something about Dianetics and Scientology. He turned back and asked the guy for a bill. The man in the black coat was ecstatic about getting rid of one of his flyers. Sure enough, the bill was advertising a free video about Dianetics at the church of Scientology. At this point, our fate was sealed. The Church of Scientology was right off of Time Square. Hooray Tom Cruise's money! We would have to return the following day to see what this enigma of a religion was all about.
We returned to Manhattan the following day with a visit to the CoS firmly set in our agenda. We fought our way through the jungle of people in Time Square to 46th St. Rose and Nashma accompanied us willingly (mostly). We made a left, and it was there that the CoS loomed above us like a clown on stilts. After a few pictures, we entered cautiously. The scene before us appeared to be more of a museum/ cafe rather than a church. We were greeted by an energetic investment banker named Linda[sic?]. She informed us that the movie would be starting again in four minutes, and she invited us to some milano cookies and fresh coffee while Tom Cruise rambled about how Scientology was an answer to life on some LCD screen in the background. Linda asked us our names. I'd say it was at about this point she realized we weren't very serious about Scientology due to the fact that we introduced ourselves as Monica, Rachel, Ross, and Chandler. Apparently, she had all the seasons of Friends on DVD.
When the video was ready, Linda led us into a 12x12 ft. all black room with red velvet chairs and a movie screen. She announced that she would be back when the movie was over to see what we thought.
The movie was about a guy named Jerry who played football for Marist in the 50s. In true Hollywood fashion, the movie was in the form of a drama with professional actors and cinematography. Jerry lost the use of his legs after being hit pretty hard during a football game. He later found himself in a hospital being examined by cruel doctors. The doctors informed him that there may be a very small chance he could walk again if he paid for years of therapy that would cost him tens of thousands of dollars. Frantic, Jerry didn't know what to do. Until one day, his girlfriend left a copy of Dianetics by L. Ron Hubbard by his side. Jerry read all about how the unconscious mind hinders personal growth and how we're all prisoners of our subconscious and how the subconscious remembers everything and blah blah blah. He then closed his eyes, thought really hard, and wiggled his big toe. He then got up and danced around the room. The doctors were baffled and told him he should lie down for more tests. Jerry basically said "Peace B!tches." The movie proceeded to show images of Jerry with his family and all that mooshy, gooshy Hollywood B.S. The outro consisted of big block letters telling us to buy and read Dianetics.
Upon exiting the theater, we glanced at the gold leafed meeting hall and proceeded down stairs. Linda immediately met us with several copies of Dianetics. We asked her some questions about the "science" of Dianetics. All of which led to ambiguous answers and references to other L. Ron Hubbard books. Apparently, the only way to learn more about Scientology is to buy more books. Brilliant! Linda showed us a book displaying common questions about Scientology and promptly left us. This mostly concluded our adventure. We bid her farewell and thanked her for showing us around.
I think I'll go invent my own religion too...
Yesterday, as any good tourist does, we were sure to visit Times Square. On our way through the over crowded sidewalks, while being blinded by overly flashy, animated billboards, we were offered an advertisement bill. Ajay and I, without thinking, passed right by. However, about two steps later Ajay stopped dead in his tracks. I heard him mutter something about Dianetics and Scientology. He turned back and asked the guy for a bill. The man in the black coat was ecstatic about getting rid of one of his flyers. Sure enough, the bill was advertising a free video about Dianetics at the church of Scientology. At this point, our fate was sealed. The Church of Scientology was right off of Time Square. Hooray Tom Cruise's money! We would have to return the following day to see what this enigma of a religion was all about.
We returned to Manhattan the following day with a visit to the CoS firmly set in our agenda. We fought our way through the jungle of people in Time Square to 46th St. Rose and Nashma accompanied us willingly (mostly). We made a left, and it was there that the CoS loomed above us like a clown on stilts. After a few pictures, we entered cautiously. The scene before us appeared to be more of a museum/ cafe rather than a church. We were greeted by an energetic investment banker named Linda[sic?]. She informed us that the movie would be starting again in four minutes, and she invited us to some milano cookies and fresh coffee while Tom Cruise rambled about how Scientology was an answer to life on some LCD screen in the background. Linda asked us our names. I'd say it was at about this point she realized we weren't very serious about Scientology due to the fact that we introduced ourselves as Monica, Rachel, Ross, and Chandler. Apparently, she had all the seasons of Friends on DVD.
When the video was ready, Linda led us into a 12x12 ft. all black room with red velvet chairs and a movie screen. She announced that she would be back when the movie was over to see what we thought.
The movie was about a guy named Jerry who played football for Marist in the 50s. In true Hollywood fashion, the movie was in the form of a drama with professional actors and cinematography. Jerry lost the use of his legs after being hit pretty hard during a football game. He later found himself in a hospital being examined by cruel doctors. The doctors informed him that there may be a very small chance he could walk again if he paid for years of therapy that would cost him tens of thousands of dollars. Frantic, Jerry didn't know what to do. Until one day, his girlfriend left a copy of Dianetics by L. Ron Hubbard by his side. Jerry read all about how the unconscious mind hinders personal growth and how we're all prisoners of our subconscious and how the subconscious remembers everything and blah blah blah. He then closed his eyes, thought really hard, and wiggled his big toe. He then got up and danced around the room. The doctors were baffled and told him he should lie down for more tests. Jerry basically said "Peace B!tches." The movie proceeded to show images of Jerry with his family and all that mooshy, gooshy Hollywood B.S. The outro consisted of big block letters telling us to buy and read Dianetics.
Upon exiting the theater, we glanced at the gold leafed meeting hall and proceeded down stairs. Linda immediately met us with several copies of Dianetics. We asked her some questions about the "science" of Dianetics. All of which led to ambiguous answers and references to other L. Ron Hubbard books. Apparently, the only way to learn more about Scientology is to buy more books. Brilliant! Linda showed us a book displaying common questions about Scientology and promptly left us. This mostly concluded our adventure. We bid her farewell and thanked her for showing us around.
I think I'll go invent my own religion too...
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Spider Monkeys
The other day, while passing time in the church long after the food pantry and soup kitchen had closed, a group of us stumbled upon the subject of Spider Monkeys. Rose starred at me in disbelief as if she had never heard of Spider Monkeys. Sensing a tiny bit of naivety floating through the air, I immediately pounced. I quickly began telling her about all the different types of monkeys: Roach Monkeys, Snake Monkeys, Big Monkeys, Tall Monkeys, Blue Monkeys, Small Monkeys...all that Dr. Seuss stuff. Of course, she knew I was messing with her. This completely destroyed her trust in me, and the funny thing is, she still didn't believe in Spider Monkeys when it was all said and done. Brett had to sit her down and show her a video of Spider Monkeys on his iPhone.
P.S. I've never realized how useful an iPhone is until this trip. We'll be standing on a street corner wondering something like "What's the capital of Moldova?" Everyone will turn around and stare at Brett as if he's automatically expected to look it up.
P.S. I've never realized how useful an iPhone is until this trip. We'll be standing on a street corner wondering something like "What's the capital of Moldova?" Everyone will turn around and stare at Brett as if he's automatically expected to look it up.
best day ever
i read this story recently where a church in georgia had become good friends with a church in Tanzania. They had gone over to Tanzania to help build a sanctuary, worship, and make friends. A few months later a young priest for the church in Tanzania came over to visit in Atlanta. His relationships grew and strengthened. One day a parishioner received an e-mail from him. He said that he had malaria. In the end he said. "Don't lose heart, my friend. Friend and Relationship is a long way to walk. We can walk"
This quote has been playing over and over in my mind this week. As I walk through the aisles of the make-shift grocery store, walk around a giant pool of pennies, walk circles in a tiny kitchen preparing plates. It's easy to get discouraged, impatient, confused when you're surrounded with this poverty, this homelessness. You try and dissect it, justify it. just explain it. when you do you lose heart. but when you walk with them it's different. it's transforming. and that's the difference: learning to accompany them, not serve them.
This quote has been playing over and over in my mind this week. As I walk through the aisles of the make-shift grocery store, walk around a giant pool of pennies, walk circles in a tiny kitchen preparing plates. It's easy to get discouraged, impatient, confused when you're surrounded with this poverty, this homelessness. You try and dissect it, justify it. just explain it. when you do you lose heart. but when you walk with them it's different. it's transforming. and that's the difference: learning to accompany them, not serve them.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A hundred million pennies
Today eight of us got to be a part of a once in a lifetime experience--we got to rake over a hundred million pennies at Rockefeller Center and talk to hundreds of passersby who were inspired by the Penny Harvest program. The experience was fun and downright cool (how many people have raked and swum in a million dollars in pennies?), but also really inspiring. The idea that one penny at a time can achieve so much good is amazing, and I guess it's also the spirit of our trip.
-Denisse
-Denisse
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
When we first arrived, it had been a long day traveling at the airport. I was tired, frustrated, and in great need of a long hot shower. Then came our accommodations consisting of a church floor and some very used sleeping mats. I had brought a light camping mattress, often used on trails, and my 20 degree sleeping bag; but I could never have been prepared for what lay ahead. In a brand new city, without understanding the area or neighborhood; I laid down on an stained green mattress and listened. Every sound, every noise that was audible awoke me. It sounded always as though someone was trying to break into the church through a duct vent or door. Each bumb was some unknown terror coming; and I was honestly slightly afraid. And then I thought, this right now is what it feels like to be homeless. To be poor without the security of a quiet neighborhood, family, or friends. It is the feeling of being utterly alone coupled with the slight pain of constant fear. The what if of the unknown. And that was my first night on Staten Island.
The next morning we began work, and being ambitious I volunteered to work outside raking leaves at a home for families. The work was not difficult, but seeing the families became a true test. We had taken a break from raking the playground, to come in for some hot coffee and a little heat. Standing in the cafeteria, with a plastic hero sword tucked behind his shirt, was a little boy who looked exactly like my four year old brother. But he was missing something, his eyes seemed a bit distant and somehow sad from some tragedy that should never befall a child of that age. He was waiting in line for juice, and I approached him to make a joke about his large sword. A comment that would have immediately elicited a playful response from my pre-schoolers, only drove the child further into his isolation. He looked straight ahead, and only asked for a straw. The lady gave him a 'big boy' straw, but he only gave a slight smile. What had happened to him? What had made him so old? I cannot say, but I do know this; that poverty ages people far beyond their time. It can make the middle aged look haggard and worn. I've seen 35 year old women who looked 55 due to circumstances. It forces people to grow up and grow distant. I cannot say what has happened or will become of the boy yet, I dedicate my life to changing his chances. To allowing children like him to have the precious gift of time. Not to speed up their life, but allow them to hold on to their childhood and with it their hope. Project Hospitality works as a community, as a warm smile and 'big boy' straw for families in needs. They reach out and give compassion. It is that compassion that helps mold lives for a better future.
Today, I have traveled the world, and I love what I see. I worked at the food pantry helping customers shop for their groceries. Each customer was handed a list for groceries based on their needs. It was confusing even for an almost college graduate, much less an individual that spoke no English. The pace was fast, with people pushing and rushing through the three small aisles to grab at the 'best' of donations. An old man looked remarkably confused, and I went over to ask if he needed any assistance. He smiled and nodded his head. Thinking he was just shy, I went to explain in English what the list was for but soon stopped. The man did not reply in English, he did not reply in a language I had ever heard before. I asked him what he spoke, and with a confident smile he stated, "Russian." I know one word in Russian, and that is 'goodbye'. So we walked down the aisle very slowly and I held up each can of corn, or beans, or pears and said the word slowly pointing at the picture. He looked at me and replied in Russian what each item was and I replied back in Russian. He was my teacher for fifteen minutes today, and I was a very eager students. We counted bread in Russian, we talked about meat in Russians, and we replied about each others help. He repeated my English and I repeated his Russian. At the end he took my hands and warmly thanked me. I took his hands and confidently replied "Do svidaniya!" Which means not goodbye, but 'till I meet you again'. Today I visited Russia, China, Yugoslavia, and Aruba. I saw parts of the world I will never physically visit and yet I have seen them and felt them and for a brief while been a part of their culture and community.
---Whitney Rudin
The next morning we began work, and being ambitious I volunteered to work outside raking leaves at a home for families. The work was not difficult, but seeing the families became a true test. We had taken a break from raking the playground, to come in for some hot coffee and a little heat. Standing in the cafeteria, with a plastic hero sword tucked behind his shirt, was a little boy who looked exactly like my four year old brother. But he was missing something, his eyes seemed a bit distant and somehow sad from some tragedy that should never befall a child of that age. He was waiting in line for juice, and I approached him to make a joke about his large sword. A comment that would have immediately elicited a playful response from my pre-schoolers, only drove the child further into his isolation. He looked straight ahead, and only asked for a straw. The lady gave him a 'big boy' straw, but he only gave a slight smile. What had happened to him? What had made him so old? I cannot say, but I do know this; that poverty ages people far beyond their time. It can make the middle aged look haggard and worn. I've seen 35 year old women who looked 55 due to circumstances. It forces people to grow up and grow distant. I cannot say what has happened or will become of the boy yet, I dedicate my life to changing his chances. To allowing children like him to have the precious gift of time. Not to speed up their life, but allow them to hold on to their childhood and with it their hope. Project Hospitality works as a community, as a warm smile and 'big boy' straw for families in needs. They reach out and give compassion. It is that compassion that helps mold lives for a better future.
Today, I have traveled the world, and I love what I see. I worked at the food pantry helping customers shop for their groceries. Each customer was handed a list for groceries based on their needs. It was confusing even for an almost college graduate, much less an individual that spoke no English. The pace was fast, with people pushing and rushing through the three small aisles to grab at the 'best' of donations. An old man looked remarkably confused, and I went over to ask if he needed any assistance. He smiled and nodded his head. Thinking he was just shy, I went to explain in English what the list was for but soon stopped. The man did not reply in English, he did not reply in a language I had ever heard before. I asked him what he spoke, and with a confident smile he stated, "Russian." I know one word in Russian, and that is 'goodbye'. So we walked down the aisle very slowly and I held up each can of corn, or beans, or pears and said the word slowly pointing at the picture. He looked at me and replied in Russian what each item was and I replied back in Russian. He was my teacher for fifteen minutes today, and I was a very eager students. We counted bread in Russian, we talked about meat in Russians, and we replied about each others help. He repeated my English and I repeated his Russian. At the end he took my hands and warmly thanked me. I took his hands and confidently replied "Do svidaniya!" Which means not goodbye, but 'till I meet you again'. Today I visited Russia, China, Yugoslavia, and Aruba. I saw parts of the world I will never physically visit and yet I have seen them and felt them and for a brief while been a part of their culture and community.
---Whitney Rudin
can of roach worms
today was nothing i have ever experienced. the only other time i have worked around impoverished people and food is the occasional Thanksgiving dinner at All Saints'.
The organization we are working with, Project Hospitality, offers a soup kitchen and food pantry resource (among others). From 9:00 am to 5:00 pm (with a lunch break in the middle) I helped people shop for groceries. luckily i like to shop in the grocery store and with picky, fickle roommates i usually spend hours in the store, so this was nothing new.
Each customer had a list of groceries they could get. every list was the same but modified for quantity based on how many they were shopping for. It went something like this for a one person:
1 lb or can of meat
1 can of vegetables
1 can of fruit
1 box of cereal
1 lb of rice or pasta
milk- today was a pack of six yogurt cups
i can/ bottle of juice
2 random items(choose from popcorn, gravy, almond paste- one man was particularly attached to his almond paste)
1 can of soup
4 tangerines
4 bananas
1 bunch of greens
5 bags of bread(sliced, bagel..)
1 choice of dessert (cake, cookies)
I spoke mostly english, a good bit of spanish, my limited three words in Russian, and lots of pointing and holding up numbers with my fingers.
The moment that stands out most in my mind is when this man was with his cart, already headed the wrong way down our 20 foot aisle, was asked by a worker to put baskets in his cart. He was very offended by the request and perhaps the tone in which he was asked. He continued to curse and exclaim his frustration with being treated like a piece of trash. I was hesitant to approach him or ask him if he needed help in fear of being accused of treating him less than what he felt he should be treated. But he needed help. And i knew what he needed, how much, how to get it. and what was more important than being yelled it was getting him the food. At the end of his shopping he was smiling and thanking me. i was grateful to have the opportunity to offer him service that he could receive with smiles, thankfulness, and dignity.
The organization we are working with, Project Hospitality, offers a soup kitchen and food pantry resource (among others). From 9:00 am to 5:00 pm (with a lunch break in the middle) I helped people shop for groceries. luckily i like to shop in the grocery store and with picky, fickle roommates i usually spend hours in the store, so this was nothing new.
Each customer had a list of groceries they could get. every list was the same but modified for quantity based on how many they were shopping for. It went something like this for a one person:
1 lb or can of meat
1 can of vegetables
1 can of fruit
1 box of cereal
1 lb of rice or pasta
milk- today was a pack of six yogurt cups
i can/ bottle of juice
2 random items(choose from popcorn, gravy, almond paste- one man was particularly attached to his almond paste)
1 can of soup
4 tangerines
4 bananas
1 bunch of greens
5 bags of bread(sliced, bagel..)
1 choice of dessert (cake, cookies)
I spoke mostly english, a good bit of spanish, my limited three words in Russian, and lots of pointing and holding up numbers with my fingers.
The moment that stands out most in my mind is when this man was with his cart, already headed the wrong way down our 20 foot aisle, was asked by a worker to put baskets in his cart. He was very offended by the request and perhaps the tone in which he was asked. He continued to curse and exclaim his frustration with being treated like a piece of trash. I was hesitant to approach him or ask him if he needed help in fear of being accused of treating him less than what he felt he should be treated. But he needed help. And i knew what he needed, how much, how to get it. and what was more important than being yelled it was getting him the food. At the end of his shopping he was smiling and thanking me. i was grateful to have the opportunity to offer him service that he could receive with smiles, thankfulness, and dignity.
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