Bankin' On It

There's a food bank in my neighborhood. It's on one of the main streets leading from our house to our neighborhood's downtown area. Passing it upsets and confuses me. Not because it's an eyesore or that I don't agree with having a food bank in a residential neighborhood, but because there are people waiting outside.

The food bank is open three days a week, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. When I drop my girls off at school before 9 a.m., oftentimes a line has already formed. Rain or shine, clients wait with their books and their boxes for the food bank to open. Some have children with them. Most look like anybody else you'd see on the street, in the grocery store, at the movies. A couple of older Chinese ladies, their dark hair curled in place, their clothes tidy and fitted, smiled at me, nodding, "Ni hao, ni hao."

I'm conflicted about the food bank because it saddens me to think there are so many people without enough to eat. Yet I'm relieved that the food bank is there. I hate that it's necessary. I love that there are volunteers donning plastic gloves sorting through my donated clothing, glad to know their clients will have more choices for job interviews.

I wait in line for tickets to a show, to buy an electronic device, to get on a treadmill at the gym. These people are waiting in line to eat. I'm not sure what to do with that. Of course, there's guilt, especially since I was raised by a single parent who didn't let me leave the table until I'd eaten everything on my plate (a habit I have to force myself not to do with my own children). But there's something more, a challenge perhaps, to myself and my family. Are we biting off more than we can chew? Can we examine how we buy and consume food so that we're happy with 'enough'?

I snack a lot during the day. I'm home, I'm chasing my girls, the only meal I usually sit down for is dinner. I watch my daughters eat until they're full and when they say, "I'm done," they're done. They take their plates into the kitchen and go on with their days. I finish the food on my plate without paying much attention to it. I usually finish what's left on theirs by the time the dishes have to be washed. For whatever psychological reason, I'm hungry "for somethin'" an hour later. It's an odd cycle.

Seeing people line up at the food bank challenges me to rethink how I think about food. Right now there's a huge food movement happening - slow food, organic food, all natural food, locally grown food - "Foodie" has entered our lexicon. People are concerned about where their food comes from, what's in it, who makes it. It's all a heavy, distended stomach weighing us down.

My challenge to myself is to lose some of that weight. To ask, "Why do we have so much food?" "Why are we compelled to fill our pantries and refrigerators?" To just enjoy the sensation of satiation.

BTW:
While making a donation to the food bank today, I learned that they're moving to another location. It's not on my direct route, but it's still in the neighborhood. I think about the change that means for their patrons - and for me.