Thanks Giving Thanks

I've always told my girls that we're rich. We have money enough to eat what we want to eat and to help a few of those who don't. That's my definition of wealth. To have too much is, in the words of a Fairground Attraction song, too absurd.

This Thursday is Thanksgiving in the US. The day after Thanksgiving is called Black Friday. I love Thanksgiving. There is something great about a country whose main national holiday is about gathering together with friends and family to eat and talk and give thanks. Call me naive, but I think Thanksgiving brings out the best in people. Conversely, Black Friday provides example after example of the things which aren't so great about the US: a rampant consumerism, a blatant disregard for people other than oneself, a bloodthirsty hunger for a bargain. If you think I'm exaggerating, have a look at Black Friday Death Count, which monitors how many people are killed each year. Killed shopping.

I've recently been elected onto the board of a regional food shelf charity. We supply food to local people who've fallen on hard times, people who haven't got enough money in their pockets to buy the food they need, people who are described, in policy speak, as living in 'food insecure' households.  'Food insecure' means lacking reliable access to affordable, nutritious food. The cheapest way to eat in the US is to buy junk food - high calorie foods which have little nutritious content - so, ironically, symptoms of being 'food insecure' often include obesity. There are also strong correlations between being 'food insecure' and having chronic kidney disease, diabetes, behavioral problems, mental health issues, and hypertension. The problem is growing: 14.5% of the US population live in poverty, 49.1 million people live in 'food insecure' households across the US, and 1 in 5 Vermont children experience food hardship.

At the last food shelf meeting, John asked us for more money. His  name isn't really John, but he doesn't like to publicize the work he does so I would feel uncomfortable using his name on this blog. He's a Mason. I've always been wary about Masons - based purely on crass stereotypes of misogyny and funny handshakes. For the past six years, John has been on a mission to make sure that people can have a hot Christmas dinner. John is a man of high standards: the meals are delivered hot within an hour of being cooked, recipients choose what they would like to eat from a menu, the service is completely confidential, and this year John and his team estimate they will deliver 250 hot dinners to local families who would not otherwise have a Christmas dinner. They are informed about people in need through social services, confidential referrals from schools, and word of mouth.
 
'In a way that's just the start,' he said, leaning forward onto the table. 'We encourage our drivers to be sensitive. Last year, we delivered to a woman who asked for a small portion because she had nowhere to store leftovers. Within three days, we'd had a whip-round and delivered a fridge to her house. Another man told us he hadn't had a hot meal for several weeks because his stove had broken, so we arranged for a handyman to mend the stove and check the safety of the other gas appliances while he was there. There's lots more examples I could tell you, but the one which stays with me...' He paused, pushed his glasses down his nose and rubbed at his eyes. 'The one which always makes me want to keep doing this year after year was a little girl who ran out to the driver wearing flip-flops. There were a few inches of the snow on the ground. The driver made a joke about how brave she was running around nearly barefoot, and she just smiled and said she didn't have any proper shoes because they'd got too small for her. Within 24 hours, we were back at her door with $150 cash.'

John explained he was embarrassed to have to ask for a larger donation from us this year. When he started his charitable scheme in 2008, he could provide a full Christmas meal for $3.05. That included a starter, main and dessert with generous portion sizes (and, given that John was a generously sized man himself, I can only imagine what must be a 'generous portion' in his mind!). He works directly with suppliers to try and keep down costs. Everyone involved is a volunteer, drivers pay for their own gas, and the local school funds the kitchen expenses. Even so, this year he can't manage to provide the meal at less than $5.43 per head. Unemployment statistics might be going down as the US appears to recover from the recession and gas prices might be the lowest for 4 years, but the real cost of food is higher than it has ever been.

As part of their charitable activities, our local supermarket has a Helping Hands food box scheme. For a $10 donation, customers purchase a box filled with basic food stuffs - oatmeal, cereal, pasta, rice, peanut butters etc. - which is then donated to the local food shelf charity. On Sunday, the girls and I needed to collect that weekend's Helping Hands boxes and take them to the food shelf offices. People had donated three shopping carts' worth of boxes. It took a while to fit them all into the car. It's probably the closest I'll ever get to the Black Friday madness - filling my car with special deals and forcing my children to squash into the back seat among all the bargains. And it felt great.