The Forty Days

Nearly one in five Central Texans are food insecure.  (”Food insecurity” means the inability to access enough food to meet all basic needs at all times due to a lack of financial resources.)  Forty-one thousand children under the age of 18 in Travis County are confronted with food insecurity every day.  Texas leads the nation in childhood food insecurity. Guess what I did today?  No, I did not spend two hours at Mr. Gatti’s all-you-can-eat pizza buffet trying to get every penny’s worth of my $6.99.  That was yesterday.  Today, I volunteered at the Capital Area Food Bank of Texas (”CAFB”).

As a funemployed person, I would be remiss if I let this forty days pass without volunteering.  After all, it can’t be all fun and no work.  When I start researching non-profits to volunteer with, I am drawn to CAFB.  First, volunteering is very easy logistically–there is no required training session and signing up to volunteer is simple via their website.  Second, their mission is undeniably good–to nourish hungry people and lead the community in ending hunger.  Who isn’t supportive of that goal?  Satan probably.  Maybe Dick Cheney.

My friend Chris and I show up at CAFB at 1 pm for the 1-4 pm shift, which we have already signed up for.  I convince Chris to volunteer with me on Saturday night during a rousing game of Clue with several of my law clerk friends.  By the way, it was Ms. White, with the lead pipe, in the lounge.  Both of us signed up to sort donations, which involves inspecting, cleaning, sorting, boxing, and making donations ready for distribution.  (Chris refuses to be photographed for the blog because . . . well, because he doesn’t want you all up in his business.  There I said it.  So, for all of you who had any inclination to get in Chris’ business, you can abandon any misconceived hopes of that happening.  Got it?)

When we arrive, we locate our Volunteer Leader, himself a volunteer, and we are assigned our task.  We are to unpack boxes of assorted meat products and inspect them to ensure that the meat looks edible and is still wrapped appropriately (i.e., has not been exposed to air).  If the meat meets both criteria, we are to mark out the UPC label (so the meat cannot be resold or returned) and place it on a conveyor belt, where another volunteer sorts it.  Otherwise, we are to toss it in the garbage.  Here is a very engaging video of me in action.  (Notice toward the end of the video, Billie Jean comes on the radio.  Immediately after the video ends, I get on the conveyor belt and do the moonwalk.  Unfortunately, Chris, as an amateur videographer, misses that part.  But, rest assured, it was awesome.)

While Chris and I engage in this not-too-taxing work, we talk about relationships, yoga and meditation, and our experience clerking for federal judges last year, amongst other topics.  We joke around.  We sing along to the radio, which is playing some great 80’s music.  We talk with our Volunteer Leader, who is a retired archeological consultant and professor.  Then about halfway through our shift, the CEO and President of CAFB, David Davenport, comes into the room and talks with some of the staff.  Upon learning who he is, I track him down, corner him, and force him to submit to a short interview.  He tells me that last year, CAFB distributed 22.1 million pounds of food (as opposed to a ten-year average of 15 million pounds per year).  Because of these economic times, demand has increased by 60 percent, and food donations have been unable to fully keep up with increased demand.  Financial contributions have flattened.  Because of the increased demand and distribution, CAFB needs more and more volunteers to maintain the increased pace.  You hear that?  CAFB needs volunteers!  If you’re interested, signing up is super-easy.  Just click here.  Here is a picture of me shaking hands with David.  This is not staged at all.  (What am I holding?  A dirty pair of socks?)

As Chris and I leave CAFB, I ask Chris if he feels good, and he says that he feels a little good on a micro-level–”more or less the same effect as two glasses of wine.”  Ha!  As I feel great after two glasses of wine, I interpret this as big, fat “yes.”  Do I feel good?  Slightly.  Did I make a difference?  Probably not–not by myself, at least.  But add up all the work done by all the volunteers and all the man-hours, and now we’re getting somewhere.  And I guess that’s what volunteering is all about–it’s not about me or Chris or you.  It’s about being a very small piece of something bigger that eventually puts food in the hands of the hungry.  And that is undeniably good, right?