They come in piecemeal. If their name isn't on the list, they're told to come back later. Mostly Irish, the occasional Brit and the odd woman. The first thing we ask is if they'd like some tea. Milk and sugar? Almost always. The blind man in the corner asks for coffee.
It was my first night at Dublin Simon's 'social club' - a night where DS 'service users' (the homeless) come and eat with the volunteers.
I don't know my way around and feel in the way of other volunteers. So I sit down and start talking. This man is from Lithuania. His English isn't good and my hearing is bad. I feel I am doing more harm, making him stammer out broken sentences. He uses his hands to speak louder. He is missing his ring finger. Someone tells him they ordered a garlic pizza just for him and he smiles wide. He's missing four front teeth, not all in a row. He excuses himself and I move on.
A famous Irish comedian makes a surprise visit. His name is David McSavage and at first, I mistake him for another service user. Half his jokes are about Americans and how superficially positive we are. I think his jokes are funny, if brash, but a service user interrupts his show to tell him there's an American in the audience. He makes me identify myself and apologizes. My cheeks redden and I tell him it's alright. I leave the room to talk to the blind man in the corner.
Let's call him John. He wears a long, black coat and wired spectacles. He seems regal, despite the stains on his jacket. He notices my accent and asks me where I'm from. Chicago. He gives me an encylopedic history of the state of Illinois. Most facts I'd forgotten, some I never knew. I ask him if he's been to the States, he says no. But it's a lifelong dream and one day he'd like to go to Alaska. He smiles big and I notice he too is missing three front teeth. All in a row, just like me. Except I have dentures, so no one knows.
I've been living with dentures now for over a year. In lieu of being able to afford dental implants, I got a nice set of fake front teeth that everyone says look very nice. The nice dentist in Ann Arbor said mine were the second brightest shade of white he'd ever fitted to match someone's teeth. It was nice of him to say.
John knows everything about everything and still has a sense of humor. We laugh about differences between the Irish and Americans and I hardly notice when my dentures start to slip a little for laughing a little bit too hard. I know John doesn't notice.
It's the end of the evening and we're made to say goodbye. I let him know I'll be back next week and that it was so very nice to meet him. He lets me know there isn't another social club til after the holidays, so be sure to mark it in my calendar.
Someone helps him up and leads him outside. I wonder how his holidays will be.
I am grateful for my dentures and for my warm apartment. And that I can come back and talk to John again. After the holidays, of course.
Merry Christmas everyone!
It was my first night at Dublin Simon's 'social club' - a night where DS 'service users' (the homeless) come and eat with the volunteers.
I don't know my way around and feel in the way of other volunteers. So I sit down and start talking. This man is from Lithuania. His English isn't good and my hearing is bad. I feel I am doing more harm, making him stammer out broken sentences. He uses his hands to speak louder. He is missing his ring finger. Someone tells him they ordered a garlic pizza just for him and he smiles wide. He's missing four front teeth, not all in a row. He excuses himself and I move on.
A famous Irish comedian makes a surprise visit. His name is David McSavage and at first, I mistake him for another service user. Half his jokes are about Americans and how superficially positive we are. I think his jokes are funny, if brash, but a service user interrupts his show to tell him there's an American in the audience. He makes me identify myself and apologizes. My cheeks redden and I tell him it's alright. I leave the room to talk to the blind man in the corner.
Let's call him John. He wears a long, black coat and wired spectacles. He seems regal, despite the stains on his jacket. He notices my accent and asks me where I'm from. Chicago. He gives me an encylopedic history of the state of Illinois. Most facts I'd forgotten, some I never knew. I ask him if he's been to the States, he says no. But it's a lifelong dream and one day he'd like to go to Alaska. He smiles big and I notice he too is missing three front teeth. All in a row, just like me. Except I have dentures, so no one knows.
I've been living with dentures now for over a year. In lieu of being able to afford dental implants, I got a nice set of fake front teeth that everyone says look very nice. The nice dentist in Ann Arbor said mine were the second brightest shade of white he'd ever fitted to match someone's teeth. It was nice of him to say.
John knows everything about everything and still has a sense of humor. We laugh about differences between the Irish and Americans and I hardly notice when my dentures start to slip a little for laughing a little bit too hard. I know John doesn't notice.
It's the end of the evening and we're made to say goodbye. I let him know I'll be back next week and that it was so very nice to meet him. He lets me know there isn't another social club til after the holidays, so be sure to mark it in my calendar.
Someone helps him up and leads him outside. I wonder how his holidays will be.
I am grateful for my dentures and for my warm apartment. And that I can come back and talk to John again. After the holidays, of course.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Very nice story, Renee. Merry Christmas.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brandon. Merry Christmas to you as well!
ReplyDelete