This was my final day of volunteering for the local soup kitchen. Something unique happened to me as I was walking up the sidewalk to the church today, through the rain and the breeze-riding cold. A short African American man was walking beside me, and he asked me how I was doing. I answered him and we spoke for a little while as we neared the kitchen. I asked him his name. "Gary," he replied. We shook hands, and then I asked him where he was going. He said that he was walking home, and that he was going to change clothes for work. Then he said that first he would get some food at another soup kitchen along the way, and told me, when I revealed that I was a volunteer for the one closer to us, that he would not stay at his kitchen long. He would sit to eat and then get up to leave as soon as he could, for "once I sit down, I don't know if I'm going to want to get back up."
I was busy my last day at the soup kitchen. I brought around the snack basket again, but this time I also carried a crate of socks from which the diners chose their goods. At the end of my final shift, I said good-bye to all of the other volunteers, and to Jan, and told them that I might be back to volunteer in the future. I hope that I did a helpful job well done.