Montana Jones

Things I have learned volunteering at the food bank

• You can usually get a little more if you just ask.
• You can also get toothpaste, soap, diapers, deodorant, tampons and other stuff. But you have to ask.
• Muffins tend to be more popular than doughnuts.
• It feels good to give someone something extra that they did not ask for.
• It is easier to give and to receive when you smile, are courteous, friendly and say thank you.
• Most of the volunteers are retirees that need something to do, teenagers, or people that have used the food bank and want to give back.
• In general, rich people tend to donate money, poor people give time and money, and middle class people donate food.
• Some people have no qualms about donating food that they would not eat themselves.
• I was surprised at how much meat is given out and how little rice and potatoes.
• There is little to no effort put into choosing healthy foods. At the food bank edible is more important than healthy.
• It is frightening how many people don't understand that dented canned goods can be dangerous.
• It would be political suicide for the health department to audit the food bank. They don't go near the place.
• The food bank is very clean anyway. Volunteers are constantly cleaning, raw foods are handled with gloves and there is easy access to hand sanitizer everywhere.
• People with new and expensive clothing do use the food bank, but I have never seen the same person twice. People with worn and cheap clothing are the repeat customers.
• Creating more rules and regulations with the intent to deter people abusing the system will stop some of the abuse. It will also stop some of the people that need help.
• People that think the world owes them something are more likely to need a handout.
• Some of the people that think the world owes them something don't need the handout, but they take it anyway.

Labels: charity, donation, food, food bank, health, learning, list, observations, volunteer

Posted by: Montana Jones / 9:40 AM 0 comments

Down strokes

He:

I finally got to hear P_ sing. She is so angelic. She is quite good.

Me:

Angelic is the right word for it. Isn't she amazing?

He:

And I had a chance to play with C_ and Z_ too. Z_ is pretty good. He can do Johnny Cash really well.

Me:

I have never heard Z_ play.

He:

Well, he is pretty good. And I noticed something interesting too. I have seen it in all the guitar players from your generation. You and C_ and Z_ and even S_, you all have a style of playing only down strokes.

Me:

It's that punk influence.

He:

You know, I think you are right, I really do think that is it. But it's really impressive to me that every one of you does it. It's a generational thing. All the guitar players your age do it.

Labels: conversation, down stroke, generation, guitar, Music, observations, play, punk

Posted by: Montana Jones / 8:04 PM 0 comments

In the bar

There is a strange tightness in my chest when the most attractive girl in the bar chooses to sit next to me. I smile my hello but keep most of my attention on my cheeseburger and the football game on teevee. I was torn about even leaving the comfort of home this cold evening. The deciding factor was not so much that I had no dinner in the fridge, but that I wanted some entertainment. And so I sat quietly at the bar and ate my burger and watched the football game and listened to the people around me tell their stories. Most stories people tell at the bar are not interesting. Drunks being self important makes poor insight to life. It's all about who wronged us and who did something stupid and how drunk we got that one time.

The girl is joined by her friend, the day shift bartender just off duty, and I can hear snippets of conversation. How he was so sweet and how she couldn't understand him and a longing for something greater in life. It would be the most interesting conversation in the bar except that I can't hear it very well over the din of the teevee and the boisterous patrons.

A girl joins the crowd on my other side. Sitting on the stool next to me and leaning into her group of friends her low rise jeans shows me the crack of her ass and a tattoo that says "respect" in flowery script. If she is trying to teach herself respect she put the tattoo where she cant see it herself, and if she wants respect from others I don't think she will get it by flashing her ass and her message at the same time.

At the end of the bar a young man is trying to be clever by throwing ice and insults at everyone nearby. When the attractive girls physically turn away from him in an effort to ignore him his retort is to raise his volume and shout out how he is complimenting them with his insults. It's not long before the girls pick up their drinks and move to the other side of the room.

The idea of leaving home and finding the company of others this evening was appealing not so long ago. And here I am alone in a boisterous crowd. I can't think of a single thing to say to anyone near me. No conversation starters, no ice breakers, no jokes. Not for the clever guy or the respectful girl or the attractive ladies. Even though there is beer and cheeseburgers and football on teevee, many good things, I have nothing in common with the people at the bar.

Labels: bar, drinking, observations

Posted by: Montana Jones / 10:28 AM 2 comments