Won't you be my neighbor?

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It's funny the things that are "instilled" within you as you're growing up ... the things you roll your eyes at when you're little and then realize later that you really kind of like them. I remember Mr. Carlson lecturing us in junior high PE class, for instance, telling us that we needed to make sports a lifetime habit. I rolled my eyes then ... and heaven only knows just how much I need sports now for my own mental safety.

Volunteering could also fit well within that roll-your-eyes category ... and yet, this weekend I found myself back volunteering at a soup kitchen - and loving it. Yes, it was Saturday, and no my eyes were not fully open when I was at the grocery store buying $450 (thank you Bacardi, for sponsoring) worth of groceries with ten other not-yet-recovered-from-Friday-night volunteers at 9AM. Perhaps here I should point out yet another interesting cultural tid-bit ... fully half of the volunteers are American and Canadian and, as we started talking about it amongst ourselves, we realized just how very much volunteerism is encouraged and promoted - if not required - in the North America, while it remains somewhat of an oddity around much of Europe ...

Anyhow ... under the watchful eye of a former restaurant owner and professional chef, we peeled, chopped, sliced, diced and cut loads of veggies to our hearts content until amazing aromas were wafting out of the kitchen and we opened the doors to some 120 people - people, we were told, who were not "homeless", per say, but rather needy.

This is indeed an interesting distinction and, especially when you really took note of the people. From my meager experience with soup kitchens in the States, I think it's fair to say that most "customers" are clearly in very dire straights of one nature or another. Not so the case here. In fact, many were well dressed, all were clean, almost none carried bags or other personal possessions. The vast majority were men - mostly in their 50s or 60s; there were native Swiss and there were immigrants; there were children, babies and even the ocassional (good looking) dog. Many, I would guess, happen to know that there is (excellent!) free food available and are simply saving a few pennies and, quite honestly, in a city as expensive as Geneva and with some salaries being as low as they are, it's an idea that's worth considering ...

Perhaps the most interesting part, though, was seeing the "neighbors" in a different environment. There was the 12ish year old Romanian girl who I see on a weekly basis on the trains, pretending (it was proven today!) to be deaf and asking people to sign her "petition" for money. There was the Asian man who can always be found trying to sell transport cards in front of the train station. And there was the seemingly half-crazy woman I always see around town wearing BRIGHT green shiny spandex pants with giant gaudy fake leather belts and jelly shoes - today she stayed to the dishes of everyone who left without washing their own. And there were a couple that were quite simply hungry university students.

I think, for the first time, I felt a connection to a certain Geneva community, a sense of seeing a familiar face that doesn't carry a diplomatic facade or a seller-of-luxury schmooze instinct. But mostly, I think I was stunned - and impressed - by the difference in social profile. I wonder if the soup kitchens of Portland or Seattle would ever have let half of these people in the door ... and I wonder if the Geneva soup kitchens would know how to serve the truly desperate attendees of those in Seattle and Portland.