Jamie Beckman
October 15, 1998
English p-2

Sour Grapes

My friends and I ventured into Dorothy Day Hospitality House located in downtown Danbury a few weeks ago. For the most part, we were unsure of what to expect during the next few hours. We knew that we were there to serve food to those who were less fortunate and could not afford a good meal.

We prepared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the visitors to take home with them while the adult volunteers cooked the main meal of chicken and potato salad. The atmosphere of the room was happy and filled with laughter as my friends and I talked.

About half an hour later guests started to arrive. Most of them appeared presentable as though they got dressed in their best clothes to come enjoy the meal. As they sat down, I would bring them a drink and someone else would get them some food. When the first customer said, “Thank you,” I knew the day would be a rewarding one. The volunteers continued to dish out food and the majority of the people felt very thankful when they received the meal. I even spilled a drink on one man, but he was extremely understanding about it and told me “not to worry” while I helped him clean up the mess.

As time passed and more guests came, they seemed to get ruder and more impatient. The two rooms were filled with people who all wanted more to drink or a second serving. They stopped giving “thank you’s” and the visitors became more demanding. Not only did they expect a full plate of food, but they expected their food to be our first priority. It didn’t matter to them that there were fifty other people waiting to be served as well.

I dismissed this kind of behavior and justified that they were hungry and tired. I told myself that they did appreciate the work I was doing, but they just weren’t very good at expressing their gratitude. I continued working and tried to be as cheery as possible to lighten the mood in the rooms.

About an hour before we were going to close, a woman came in with her mother and four boys. The oldest child appeared to be about my age. There was one who was about 8, and then there were twin toddlers. The sight of them making their way to a table and sitting down was a slap in the face of the reality of society. Up until this family, all the visitors were adults.

I took pleasure in watching this family eat, however, because it didn't seem to matter to them that this food wasn't gourmet or that the service was kind of slow. They ate the food quickly as if someone might take it away from them if they didn't eat it fast enough. Then, when they were done, they asked for seconds and refills on their drinks. This made me realize that when you don't have the luxury of opening a refrigerator filled with food whenever you want, you'll take whatever you can get.

I left Dorothy Day with a newly discovered outlook for the people I see walking the streets with no where to go and little food. Prior to this experience, I would be prejudice against them and think that they were less intelligent or lazy. Now I see them as normal people that just got a sour grape from the vine of life.