Feeding America One Bag at a Time

Yesterday was a treat. Not only did the heat lift in North San Diego County, but so did my spirits. I'd forgotten what a joy it can be to volunteer and offer something so basic but so important to someone in need. I'm on the Board of Trustees for Vista Community Clinic. We hold regular meetings and events, and we hear wonderful presentations given by dedicated staff, but it doesn't compare to the pleasure of giving that comes from handing a bag of food to someone who may be hungry.

Check out the Viola Davis AARP Interview in this month's AARP magazine. This is a woman who grew up hungry and even rummaged through garbage cans looking for food when there wasn't enough money to feed all the mouths in a family of eight. Dad was a groom at the Narraganset Racetrack in Rhode Island. The pay was meager. With a successful Hollywood career, Viola lends her name to national hunger efforts. 

Robert Trachtenberg/trunkarchive.com

For several months this year, the VCC has set aside one week or more a month to offer cans of vegetables, fruit, and meat, along with bags of beans and pasta, in partnership with Feeding America. As a healthcare safety net, the Clinic serves nearly 60,000 people in five locations in North San Diego County. Many don't have health insurance when they walk through the door, and others lack the money for copays with other, more expensive providers. Without help, these patients can fall through the cracks, except they don't. The Clinic's Web site states "we're dedicated to embodying what it means to be a community clinic: offering every single person the opportunity to be healthy." 

The moms, the babies, the toddlers, and other children with big eyes, bright smiles, and shy words, expressed grateful appreciation for the gifts of life -- good health and good food. Tiny t-shirts trimmed in drools, girlie tops with lace, ribbons and sparkles, and little boy baggy pants crossed in front of the lunchroom-sized table yesterday to collect their goods in a reusable cloth shopping bag. "What's in this can?" I asked the toddler who bowed her head and pressed her cheek into her mom's soft leg. Giant circles of brown beneath the bangs peeped up at me, my arm extended so she could see the picture on the side of the can. "Carrots" was the soft response that slipped from little lips. 

"Gracias," from the lady whose leg pillowed her daughter's head and hands pushed a stroller, cuddly baby tucked inside. "Bye-bye, little one. Come again."