A mini diary of my experience working as a food aid at the Good Samaritan Society in Stillwater, MN
November 9, 2023
Today was my first day training as a food aid at the Good Samaritan Society, an elder care facility.
I remember my interview a couple of weeks ago, October 23rd. To be honest, I was really nervous. I had become familiar with rejection, and after waiting so long for them to call me back, I was expecting the same outcome. But I had walked there. And the walk was so lovely. I met Rene and Roxy for my interview. They asked me why I applied, as I was clearly overqualified. My face turned beet red and I explained why I was there.
As a food justice professional, I needed to see the food space in real life. Who works there? What foods do they make? What challenges or restrictions are they battling with? I had scrolled through hundreds of food service jobs to try and find something that vaguely resembled a community that was in need of healing from good quality food.
Restaurants? No.
Schools? Maybe.
Senior care facility? Yes.
Even better, it was just up the road from me. 10 minutes walking. I got the tour of the facility and some familiarity with the position. I was so excited, yet so unsure of myself. Could I really do this? It was so new, so different. I would be starting from scratch. “A beginner’s mind,” my neighbor said, “a sponge for knowledge.”
Today, that rang true as true could be. I sat at a desk watching hours upon hours of modules about how to respect the dignity of elders in the facility. How to treat them within their homes. How to care for their mental, physical, and spiritual well being. It was overwhelming. I learned so much, and gained such a deep appreciation for the people who lived and worked there. So much compassion.
While walking home, my mind was in pure bliss. Peace, in the present.
Two hours later, I was registering my business domain, communitykinetics.com. I was ready to change this world. To connect people to the millions of pounds of wasted resources that feed, quench, and energize our communities, and to give the community the power to tell us how they want to be connected with it. I am fired up beyond belief.
It’s been a whirlwind of a day.
November 12, 2023
What does food justice look like at GSS?
Birdie laughs in the kitchen. Her pizza didn’t go as planned, but she’s always got plan B up her sleeve. She sets out the pumpkin pie she made because she wants to confirm the recipe is delicious and well loved before serving it to the residents. The nurse aids stop by to let her know it’s fabulous. She hands me a slice, in between all the other tasks she’s doing. I agree, delicious. It’s an art of love, and the love is strong. Roxy and I mix up some tomato juice and quickly cool it in the freezer so it’s chilled in time for dinner.
Most of the residents chose cranberry juice or coffee, and not the decaf kind. But one did ask for that tomato juice, and we were pleased to be able to to serve it.
Armenta talks to each resident and asks what they want to eat. Together, the rest of the team works to serve their meals at their respective places. They give the elders the dignity of choice. If necessary, they puree the food so it can be eaten safely. Some aids hand feed the residents who’ve had a stroke and struggle putting the spoon in their mouth. A resident asks for soup, but changes their mind. That’s okay. The soup is ready, and they can have a sandwich too.
Dinner may have been cooked, but whether or not someone eats, that’s where the rubber meets the road. This is where the “who” is essential. Who decided to ask the resident what they wanted? Who decided to sit and laugh and share conversation with a resident so they could be calm, and eat because they were at peace? Who made sure to feed them so they didn’t go hungry?
It is also about culture. Who creates the culture of love and care? Who sets the standard? Who do we look to for guidance?
It makes me nervous. Will I do the right thing? What if the resident gets mad because I give them the wrong thing? Even worse, what if they die because I accidently serve them something they cannot eat?
I know it will be okay, but I can see this work is not for the faint of heart. I must be strong, and diligent, and most importantly, patient and kind.
November 15, 2023
I put on my hairnet, walked in the kitchen, and there was Birdie. “What’s on tonight’s menu?” I ask, trying to start the day with upbeat conversation. “Food,” says Birdie. She looks up and smiles, as she pulls out some ham and cheese sliders from the oven.
Roxy greets me and we get started for my second day of training. White table cloths, plates, silverware, juice, coffee, and water. As we bring the last couple of items to the dining room, the tables are bustling with activity. The nurse aids seem flustered, and Armenta chimes, “it’s gonna to be a long night, and I’ve been here since 8am already.” I look around, still not clear on what’s causing all the ruckus. One man waves me over, “get me out of here. I need to be in the hallway.” As a food aid, that’s not my job and it’s best I stay out of it. I ask Roxy, “what’s the deal?” He’s a new resident and he’s having a difficult time adjusting. He gets confused with his dementia. As he scoots himself into the middle of the walk way, I look over at him. “You’ve been to Norway?” He cracks a smile, “yes, yes I have, and I’d love to be there right now.”
Eventually the nurse aids get him to his room, where he feels more comfortable. We serve until everyone has a full plate, and have been offered seconds. After carrying everything back to the kitchen, Roxy and Birdie waved me to go into the break room. “I’ll just carry on washing dishes,” I say. They shake their heads. “No, we’re going to the break room. We’ll do that later.” So we sit down and get chatting.
Suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of a conversation about food justice. I think that’s my fault, but I don’t regret it for one moment. Roxy says, “the thing that really makes this place special is this,” she taps on her heart, “that touch of love.” Every cook adds their own little splash of love, and the residents can tell. Birdie chimes in, sharing her expertise in holistic medicine. She put orange juice in the carrots today, along with some bacon, of course. She starts listing off the rich nutrients in the food she cooked. She says she believes food can heal us, and can help us release from the tight chains of big pharma. I lit up, and shared all about the food is medicine team at Metro Food Justice Network. They’re speaking my language, or rather, I’m finally speaking theirs. I understand what they’re saying. It resonates with me, to the core. It really is the love, it’s the fact that someone cares. One of the nurse aids overhears us. “And the residents have been really happy with what you’ve been cooking lately.” I was curious, so this is recent? He shared that with these new cooks, the quality of the food has drastically improved. The elderly residents, some of the hardest people to please, are happy. They’re actually saying it too. This is real.
We talked about some other things, like how Roxy and Birdie have been looking for ways to save money by cooking meals from scratch. I look up at the time and realize I better start clearing off the tables. Feeling the buzz of this conversation, I walk out with Roxy and get the dining room in order, prepped for breakfast. After finishing the tasks for the day, the three of us gathered in the kitchen. Roxy says, “on three, let’s rip off our hair nets!” 1-2-3. Voila! Beautiful. Roxy giggles, and bundles up her net. Holding it up, she says, “I found this in my bed the other morning and it scared me to the bones.” We all laugh, and banter as we end the night and walk out the door.
I am full. It’s truly an honor to be here. Walking home, I ponder how fortunate I am to have been called to this job. I followed my intuition. I know it doesn’t pay much, but now I truly get to be a part of something wonderful. This is what I set out to do, and I’m doing it.
November 26, 2023
As I walked to work today, I came to the realization that I finally feel like an adult. I suppose that makes me sound like a child, but the lack of this feeling has held me back. It’s something I’ve failed to feel for most of my life. I become a newbie in a job I never dreamed of, and now I’m an adult. It wasn’t the Bachelor of Science degree, or the 6 years of environmental consulting, or the Master of Science degree. It was becoming a food aid at the Good Samaritan society, and going independently on my own path as a social sustainability consultant.
Ironically, today was the first day I was left to my own devices. I was trusted in my ability to get the job done without supervision, and I did. I asked lots of questions, and made quite a few mistakes, but Birdie was looking out for me.
“I like to talk to the residents, you know. Introduce myself, ask some questions, and maybe end up talking about some cool things.” I agreed.
That’s a great idea. I need to stop being such a perfectionist, and enjoy the small moments with the people I am with. Birdie chimed in, “it’s all about having a good time. We might as well, we only live once.”
As I was cleaning off the tables at the end of the night, I thought about this. Earlier, I had been reading something that said, “This rise in perfectionism is causing people to be overly critical of themselves and others. It’s also led to an increase in depression and anxiety.” I could feel my anxiety. I could feel that I wasn’t relaxing and being myself. And here, the self awareness caused me to look over my shoulder and say, “hello Janet, did you have a nice Thanksgiving?” Soon, I learned of her big family, and she was offering to help me with anything I needed. Of course I told her she was doing exactly what I needed, “sit there, look beautiful, and keep me company.” Just as Gage would say.
Birdie walked in and helped me finish off the tables. She offered Janet a delicious heart shaped meringue, which she had been making in the oven as a fun little treat. Janet thoroughly enjoyed it.
December 24, 2023
It was Christmas Eve, and I made sure to show up with a festive cardigan, earrings, and demeanor. I wondered how the residents would be feeling. Sad, happy, mad, maybe all of the above? Either way, I was ready to bring cheer, in whatever way that I could.
When I walked into the kitchen, I was greeted by Birdie who had kindly done the majority of my tasks. A surprising gift of generosity. She had set the tables, stocked the fridge with drinks, prepped the drink cart, and the list goes on. I graciously thanked her. What could I do for her? I left work that day with the same question, but I would certainly continue to ponder it…
Birdie excitedly walked me into the break room and showed me all the baked goods she had made with her mum the day prior. Pizzele cookies, a pinwheel nut pastry, brownies with Christmas tree frosting, and more, for all the staff and residents to enjoy. Over the past couple of days, she had been working many hours, taking on work for others who had not shown up. Yet, she still managed to find time for this generous act of kindness. It was then that I realized she herself was the gift. Maybe unassuming, maybe someone who you wouldn’t expect, but someone who spreads immense amounts of love to people in the most honorable and human ways.
A week ago, when Birdie and I were getting ready to leave for the day, she asked me to walk with her to a resident’s room. It was a short term resident who had asked for the recipe to her nut bars. Birdie wrote it down, knocked on the resident’s door, greeted them, and handed the recipe over. The resident was ever so grateful, and commented on how delicious Birdie’s cooking was. They had thoroughly enjoyed the food during their stay, and was excited to be leaving the following day (because they had been diligent with their physical therapy). Birdie smiled, listened to them, and wished them well on their recovery. As we walked away, I thought to myself, I have truly been blessed to meet this gem of a human.
I walked out to the dining room, just to see what else needed to be done. Birdie had placed the most adorable place mats at everyone’s seat. They had been colored by some kids. I don’t know which kids, or why this program was put on, but I was overjoyed. The drawings were absolutely precious. They were thoughtful, beautiful, and heart warming.
When 17:00 rolled around, I handed out beverages to each of the residents, all sitting around their respective dining tables. Many of them commented on how cute their place mats were, with big smiles on their faces. A small act, and a world of impact. A brief moment of joy is never to be underestimated, and I saw the immensity of that statement on this day. While residents were spending their Christmas Eve at the elder care facility, they were also able to be in good company, with friends, and the spirits of the children who had shared their artwork.
There are so many good people, I know this. It can be easy to get caught up in the misery of unpleasant and selfish human interaction, but in reality, generosity prevails. It must, because without it, humans cannot live.
Birdie and I cleaned up, finishing off the final tasks of the night. We laughed and sang to Christmas music while she ran circles around me. She handed me a tin full of cookies as we walked out into the pouring rain.
As I walked home, feeling the rain drip down my face, I thought about Birdie. She brought me a special joy this Christmas season, and I hope to spread it on to many others.
Until next time.