I discovered that there was construction on Cowan as I headed down to the food bank on Wednesday, June 8th. There was a pink cement mixer about to pour concrete into a rectangular mould that had been cut out of the street, so I had to walk my bike on the sidewalk for several meters before remounting. Hopefully they are going to fix all the potholes on Cowan.
The Noble Health
Works van was in the driveway, once again, and a guy was approaching people and
asking if they wanted a hearing test. There was a shorter man standing,
slightly smiling and watching the technician work. When the technician tested
the woman that had been in front of me the week before, I’m not sure if he was
considering the possibility that her hearing might be fine while her reaction
time could be slow. He looked puzzled, and then he called the other man over to
check the headphones. The shorter man asked her if she’d step into the van with
him. Meanwhile, the technician continued with his tests. When he approached me,
I asked him how come all they ever do is hearing tests, and suggested that the
testing of blood pressure would be a better random examination for the poor. He
agreed that it would be, but he said that they do hearing because the man in
the van is a hearing specialist. He informed me that they also do dental and
asked me if I wanted a dental check. I answered that I didn’t want any kind of
check, but had questions about the Noble Health Network. He seemed slightly
defensive when he said, “Sir, we go around the community, helping people by
offering to check their hearing!” “Right, but what is the Noble Health Works?”
He went to the van to get me a card, but the card said, “Chit Chat Hearing”. I
asked why the vans say “Noble Health Works” and he answered that they would be
changing the vans soon. “Oh, so it’s not the Noble Health Works anymore?” I
think he was used to dealing with passive poor people and so he seemed a bit
frustrated when he explained that Noble Health Works is the owner of Chit Chat
Hearing. “So is Noble Health Works a clinic?” He affirmed that they have a
clinic located on Yonge Street. “And are they covered by OHIP?” “Yes, they are
covered by OHIP!” “I read online that Noble Health Works is planning on
expanding into the Middle East” “What? You heard that? No!” Maybe in my
previous research I got Noble Health Works mixed up with Noble Health Alliance.
I later accessed he website for Chit Chat Hearing, but there is no link there
to Noble Health Works. I called the number and after the second try reached
John Galoni. He told me the Noble Health Works is not a clinic in itself but a
company that owns clinics and he started the company in Hamilton. I asked for a
website url and he gave me www.noblehealthworks.ca
but informed me that it’s down right now. He answered questions like he was on
trial. I was later able to connect, but there’s not a lot of history. When I
searched John Galoni I found a few business profiles. He doesn’t seem to be a
physician and his previous businesses or the businesses for which he worked
were not medical in nature. It was shown that he graduated from Mohawk College
with a diploma in advertising and communications.
The big talkative
thirty something White woman who is there every Wednesday was talking with a
big, attractive Black woman who is also a regular. One thing that came up was
the packages of bacon that they’d given out the week before. The big White
woman commented that it’s rare that they would have bacon because they usually
take it for themselves. I wonder if that’s really true. The big Black woman
said that it was nice to have gotten some milk the week before.
For the last few
weeks there has been a new, more colourful graffiti on the back of the building
that houses the food bank. I had wanted to get a picture of it, but the light
hadn’t been right before. This time it looked like I might be able to get a
good shot and to maybe include in the shot a bit of the line-up. When I started
aiming my camera, a man that saw he was in the frame where he was sitting, got
up and moved. The big White woman and the big Black woman also moved and the
big White woman asked if they were in my way. I explained that it was a new
graffiti. She commented to her friend that she likes graffiti when it’s well
done, and gave the example of the portrait of the sleeping woman in the alley
behind Dundas and Dufferin.
As the line started
moving and the two big women were just ahead of me at the front of the line,
the guy in charge of the door that morning stepped out. “What’s up Desmond?”
asked the big White woman. Desmond reached for the crotch area of his jeans and
answered, “Oh, well that’s not up!” The big White woman told him, “You know, I
could twist your nipples so hard that it would make you cry!” Desmond smiled
and suggested that he might like that. She said, “You know, I’m a big woman! I
could put a lot of weight behind kicking you in the butt and shoving my leg up
your ass!” Again, Desmond was not phased and said that maybe she’d like that.
“What? You think that a woman would enjoy having her leg shoved up a man’s
butt?” Then she turned to the big Black woman and commented, “You know what new
fetish men have? They want to be treated like a dog! They want to be kept in a
cage, be taken for walks on a leash and fed dog food just like a dog!” Desmond
told her that it wasn’t new and had been around since the 70s. I would say that
it’s a lot older than that and also that it’s not a gender specific fetish, but
I wasn’t part of the conversation. She added that another one is that men like
wearing diapers and being treated like a baby. The big Black woman shook her
head and declared, “That’s not a man!”
I got number 14 and
went home.
When I came back I
found a smoke free pocket of the driveway. From where I was standing I noticed
that there is a bush growing from out a crack in the bricks, halfway up the
wall at the back of the building. It’s amazing that its roots could have found
nourishment in there, but I guess that maybe the wind has blown dirt into the
crack and of course the rain must make its way in there too. I love that kind
of nature that adapts itself rebelliously to the urban environment.
Once I was inside,
my helper was Desmond. At the top of the first shelf they still had some of
those cans of olive oil spray, but they also had a box of graham cracker crumbs
and Desmond told me that I could have a package of lemon pie filling to go with
that. I took the crumbs and the filling, but I forgot to read the label on the
latter package. I didn’t find out till I got home that the filling is sweetened
with aspartame, so I’ll have to cycle it back.
From the bottom I
took another package of honey-roasted almonds, which is almost a meal in
itself.
From the soup shelf
I took a couple of packages of ramen noodles.
The bean shelf was
stocked again this time, so I took a can of chickpeas.
I wasn’t interested
in taking a box of Apple Jacks from the cereal section, but below them were
hand-filled bags of granola, of which Desmond gave me two.
Someone new was
minding the refrigerated food. She gave me two litres of organic chocolate
soymilk, a small tub of spicy Yucatan guacamole, ten eggs, a bag containing
four mystery sausages and two bags of pre-cooked chopped and mixed vegetables
consisting of potatoes, turnips, onions and some kind of stalky green veggie.
Later, when I got the latter home, I figured I’d better use it right away. I
tasted the concoction and found it extremely bland. I decided to throw it into
a soup with chicken stock, lima beans, salt and paprika, but it still didn’t
have any flavour until after I’d added an onion bouillon cube and a package of
onion soup mix.
In the bread
section they usually just say take as much as you want of what you want, but
this time a young woman was minding it and said there was a limit of two loaves
per person. I took two loaves of multigrain bread, but one of the loaves was
three times the length of the other.
The
tall woman that I’ve come to know as Theresa was minding the vegetable section.
Several people called her “Hazel” this time though. That was my grandmother’s
name. For the last few months I’d been turning down a lot of the vegetables
being offered because I had some extra money for fresh produce and meat to
supplement what I’d been getting from the food bank. Summer though is a time
when I can’t be as picky, so I told Hazel I’d take a little bit of everything,
which included, ripe tomatoes, potatoes, small cucumbers and baby carrots.
There was one item that she’d left out. “Aren’t those peas?” I asked of the
pods in one bin. “Oh yes!” she said, “A lot of people don’t know what they
are!” as she gave me a few handfuls. “Well, I was raised on a farm!” I
explained.
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