It has been a busy last few days. We officially left our home base, driving into the wild tangles of concrete and asphalt that run up, down, and across the country. Every now and again, when we see a sign for Boston, and Tim and I exchange a glance. Silently, we press forward – some times quickly clasping hand, entwining fingers before Tim has to shift gears, pushing further from home and closer to our next adventure. Other times our eyes meet fleetingly before we commit to staring in opposite directions – Tim forward, and me out the passenger window. We have decided to make a huge step, committing to this project. And, if you met us, you may understand why.
It is not that we don’t get along; we do, actually, really very well. In fact, even while disagreeing (or…GASP!...fighting), we manage to laugh. Our knock down, drag out fights (which on a rating scale, would fall somewhere between G and PG-13) are ended with crossed-eyes, a nonsensical insult, or a softly chucked piece of fruit, inciting muffled snorts which progress to laughter under mild diress. If life is about cultivating the ability to giggle, then Tim and I, even while “upset”, are dedicated to perfecting the art of living.
It is really just that we are very different. Tim is really quiet; I am really talkative. Tim says left; I say right. He likes hefeweizen; I like imperial stouts. He hates going to the movies; I think going to the movies is the perfect way to spend a lazy afternoon. He likes running short, quick distances; I love long, evenly paced runs (though, we like to run together, so go figure). He prefers stick shift; I like automatic transmissions. He is a night owl; I am a morning person. The list goes on. But, the biggest difference, the biggest stumbling block, the monkey wrench in our streamlined machine, is that I thrive on planning, while Tim likes to “wing it”.
Tim’s inability to lock down plans is unparalleled, and it drives me up the wall. Recently, a friend commented that although he is fairly lax about planning, Tim’s inability to commit to plans makes even him nervous. The fact that Tim won’t even commit to a highway exit till it is 10 ft away is almost unbearable. Tim’s philosophy on planning, take it as it happens and make decisions on the fly, comes at the expense of everyone’s grey hair. But, maddening as it is, it works for him.
I, on the other hand, am slightly neurotic about planning. Ok, really neurotic. I write vacation itineraries that would scare the most seasoned battle strategists (don’t believe me? Remind me to tell you about the non-vacation of ’09). I need to know what we are doing and why we are doing it. I like to be five to ten minutes early for everything. I tend to become agitated if the schedule falls behind. And, I am completely aware that these are considered obnoxious traits by someone (cough, cough, TIM) who is perfectly happy to fly by the seat of his pants.
But, for all that attachment to planning, sometimes you over look a detail, forget to check your messages and find out that, though you are volunteering with a certain organization, you will not actually be at their main building, but at a satellite facility 12 miles away. So, already running a minute or two behind, you hop back in the car and begin to drive frantically (not in the plan) toward the other facility (this is not the location listed on my itinerary!), with the non-planner just content to go along for the ride. No qualms, no worries - just calm and enjoying the ride.
Man, I envy him sometimes.
Anyhow, we arrived at the Foodshare satellite facility, a bit late but intact. Immediately, we set to work, sorting potatoes. Mountains and mountains of potatoes.
Foodshare, serving as the Greater Hartford region’s only food bank, distributes more than 15 tons of food each day to a network of nearly 350 local partners, including community kitchens, food pantries, emergency shelters, senior food programs, child day care centers, and halfway houses. These organizations reach approximately 100,000 at risk people in the Hartford and Tolland counties, including seniors, the working poor, and 40,000 children. Though 15 tons of food appears to be a dominant blow in the fight against hunger, it actually only supplies the hungry in the region with approximately 2 meals per week.
Don, the manager of the Connecticut Regional Market Foodshare facility, explained that the produce we were sorting could not be sold in markets. Some potatoes were too small, others too large. The carrots were enormous and knarled, or sprouted multiple legs that intertwined. Though all perfectly good and fresh, the average consumer would be unable to see past the non-uniform appearance, leaving the farmer unable to sell his or her wares in the traditional channels. Instead, food banks across the nation bid on the produce, offering different amounts to cover transportation and packaging costs. Once the food bank receives the large shipments, volunteers are required to sort and repackage the produce into more manageable portions.
It was enjoyable work - repetitive, but calming. Grab a handful of potatoes, put them in the bag; grab a handful of potatoes, put them in the bag; twist the bag and tie a knot. Toss in the crate. Repeat, repeat, repeat. And then, when you run out of potatoes, repeat with a ton (literally) of carrots.
As one woman we were working with pointed out, there is so little in your daily life that you can qualify as “finished” in absolute terms – so few tasks that are every truly completed in one sitting. But, when she comes to Foodshare, she knows how much food she has sorted and repackaged, allowing her a sense of accomplishment. In addition to doing good for others, it gives her a small feeling of achievement.
We made small talk with the people around the sorting table: a mother and her son, another student doing community service to fulfill his confirmation requirement, a guy who had just got an awesome tattoo that he designed himself, a woman who lived in both Chicago and LA before moving to Hartford (though she was from Nebraska), and a woman who pointed us to the greatest grinder shop in Hartford, Franklin Giant. Please accept our photographic evidence as proof of our assertion.
Next time we will split one.
450 Woodland Ave.,
Bloomfield, CT 06002
phone 860-286-9999
fax 860-286-7860
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