Thursday morning
was problematic. When I wake up late it happens later and later. This time it
was 5:25. During song practice, by only singing the first verses and choruses
of most of my translations I was able to not only catch up but to pull ahead by
a few minutes. Then my B string broke and I was pretty sure I didn’t have
another but I went to my string drawer and though there were definitely no B
strings in envelopes I saw two of the purple ball ends of B strings amongst my
tangle of loose strings. I picked the one that wasn’t neatly coiled and set
about to get rid of the old string and install the new one. I threaded the
string end through the capstan hole and wound it around a few times by hand to
get it started, then I began tightening the machine head only to discover that
the string was unwinding because I’d wound it the wrong way by hand. When I
finally started taking away the slack the peg popped out and right inside my
guitar. I had to shake it out, then loosen the string enough to get the peg
back in. Pulling the string by hand always popped out the peg but finally I
trusted that the lower angle from the capstan to the peg would not pull it out
when the tension increased. At last it stayed. I got the string tuned and
hurried through the rest of my songs.
I made coffee in my French press by
opening up some of the Second Cup Paradiso Dark coffee pods designed for
Tassimo machines that I got from the food bank. I used to go to Second Cup a
lot in the 80s and 90s and Paradiso Dark was the kind of coffee I always asked
for. It tastes so much better when it’s brewed in a French press though.
At around quarter to nine on
Thursday I went to the food bank because it would be closed on Saturday for
Canada Day. When I arrived some volunteers were unloading from a palate on the
street cardboard trays containing groups of shrink-wrapped small bottles of
Tropicana orange juice. I asked the young guy that was picking the cases off
the palate at the beginning of the relay if they didn’t usually get their
deliveries at the back but he told me their deliveries are always from the
front and that they had three more trucks coming that day. I guess it’s because
I’ve always gone on Saturdays since they moved to PARC that I haven’t seen any
deliveries. I’d just assumed that everything was unloaded from the back
entrance but maybe there’s no room for trucks there.
Also I saw that many of the regular
volunteers that I’d assumed had either quit or been fired since the move were
still there. Joe the manager, Hazel and the early middle-aged guy with the grey
hair were all still at the food bank, but just not on Saturdays.
As I expected, because most of the
social services cheques had already been deposited, the line-up was shorter
than usual. I found out that I was behind the elderly East Asian woman with her
umbrella open because there was a little bit of rain.
I spent a lot of time out of line
because there was so much smoking going on. So much in fact that sometimes I
walked west almost to the end of the block at Beatty and Queen to avoid it. The
rain let up for a while and so I was able to read my book without it getting
wet. The tall, slim Ethiopian guy with the golden lab pup was behind me in
line. There were for some reason a lot more dogs being walked past the line-up
on a Thursday morning than there are on Saturdays. The smaller ones got to stop
and play at leash end with the lab pup, but one fully grown sheep dog growled
and barked, sending the puppy between its caregiver’s legs.
The line grew behind me and one of
the volunteers who’d come out for a cigarette expressed surprise, since he’d
thought that all the cheques had arrived. Joe explained that the Ontario
Disability Support Program cheques would not be out by Friday. The young grey
haired volunteer exclaimed, “But Saturday’s a national holiday! Ya can’t do
that to people!”
As the first five clients were taken
in everyone got into line and it began to rain much harder. The Ethiopian guy
and I discussed the degree of accuracy of weather reports. He didn’t think the
predictions were very good but I argued that they are better than they used to
be. I said that rain falling from a fully grey sky is easier to call than the
wandering cloudbursts that come from the islands of cloud that coast along with
blue sky between them. We know those clouds are going to let go but it’s hard
to know where and when.
We discussed bicycles. He said that
he couldn’t find brakes for his machine at Bike Pirates and they were too
expensive everywhere else. I told him that Bike Pirates gets in more stuff all
the time and that Parts Unknown, in a garage in the alley behind Clinton
Street, has a lot of stuff at reasonable prices.
He went to take his puppy out of the
rain under the overhang just outside the entrance. There was a woman from a
little further back in line that had also taken shelter there. The old lady in
front of me was now at the front of the line but wanted to get out of the rain
as well but when she tried to stand under the canopy Joe insisted that she
stand back behind the pipe that jutted out from the brick wall. It seemed kind
of mean to me that he was letting some people out of the rain but was making the
old lady get drenched.
Finally we were in the next five.
The old woman ahead of me, struggling with two carts, was very slow getting
down the stairs. I offered to help her but I don’t think she understood enough
English to grasp what I was saying. At the bottom of the stairs she seemed
disoriented and almost walked into the open elevator, which would have taken
her back up again.
Once we were in the shopping area
she stopped to get her bags out. I waited behind her at first but she was
taking so long that I just went ahead of her and got number 12.
Sue was back handling the dairy
counter just for that day although I don’t think she volunteers there regularly
anymore. Hazel was standing nearby as well and when she saw me said, “The yoga
guy!” which Sue echoed. I guess that another volunteer, Betina, had told them
that she used to be a yoga student of mine at PARC. Sue gave me a half litre of
2% milk, three-quarters of a litre of cottage cheese, five eggs, three fruit
bottom yogourt cups, a bottle of the orange juice they’d just unloaded from the
truck and a choice between a frozen three-meat rising crust pizza and a tube of
frozen ground chicken. I chose the pizza but Sue tossed the chicken in anyway.
Someone I didn’t recognize was in
charge of the vegetable section. She gave me a stalk of broccoli, an onion, a
carrot, three small ripe bananas and a handful of sunburned potatoes. I pointed
out that it looked like they’d been storing the potatoes in the light, which is
what causes the bitter green spots that we always referred to as sunburn back
home on the farm. I’m not sure if she understood what I was saying but there
was no time to explain, so I moved on.
My helper at the shelves was the
young guy who I’d first seen passing the orange juice from the sidewalk to the
other volunteers when I’d arrived. I turned down all the cereal, crackers and
cookies this time around because I have plenty. I tend to be attracted to and
pick up odd items that one doesn’t normally run into at the supermarket, but this
time I was strong and didn’t take the big jar of butternut squash puree even
though it was something that tempted me because I’d never seen such a thing
before. I did take a carton of butternut squash soup though.
As they often are, my helper seemed
surprised that I didn’t want any pasta or rice.
He gave me about three handfuls of
various bars and cookies: fibre 1 chewy bars, Nature Valley oat biscuits and
Bel Vita breakfast biscuits (which are really just dressed up oatmeal cookies.
He grabbed a big handful of small containers that he said were “honey and jam”
but I pointed out that the “honey” was actually honey mustard sauce and told
him I didn’t want the jam either. He tossed it all carelessly back at the bin
but much of it missed and scattered to the bottom of the shelf. I noticed
earlier as well that he was a bit reckless, as he’d wanted to save time in the
relay by throwing the containers of orange juice instead of passing them.
I got a bag of flour and another of
25 or 30 teabags. From the canned goods I asked for chickpeas and tuna and he
gave me two cans each.
As usual we were on our own with the
bread, but I just took a small loaf of sliced multigrain.
Overall there was a bit more protein
than usual, but not much in the way of vegetables. It’ll be nice when they
start harvesting the food bank garden on Cowan.
I think I’ll stick with
the Saturday food bank over the Thursday one. It opens earlier and it seems a
little more relaxed to me and there is less elder abuse.
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