Getting Food to the Hungry

    So now that I had a mission and money to see it through, it seemed to me as the outcome was obvious. The restaurant will cook, package and deliver the food, my generous donors and I will pay for the food and the displaced families will eat the food. Well, it sorta wasn't working out that way.
    I began my food delivery donation drive out of pure selfishness. I wanted to feel better. I wanted to HEAL. I needed to heal my own damaged spirit. I needed to heal my family. I needed to heal my community. The best and most direct route to healing I ever learned from my  mother was "eat something, you'll feel better." I wanted other people to eat something so I would feel better. Selfish, but true.
     Saturday progressed nicely with donations. People were hopping on the call-in bandwagon and we were ready to roll. But wait! Who was accepting the food once it got to the Rockaways? My first idea, the idea I BELIEVED we were going with, was "just go there, and give it to people who needed it". Not such a great idea. The entire Peninsula was blacked out. People were sitting in dark, damaged and cold homes. They were afraid for their safety. They were just NOT going to open their doors to a random stranger with a pizza box! What was I thinking?
      I contacted a friend who had a summer home in Breezy Point. (notice my use of the past tense. Another total loss.) I asked her if she had a contact who was still there, and willing to accept the delivery for us. She was looking into it. Now I was nervous. Lots of money for food, lots of food to be eaten, no one to eat it. Yikes. Not what I had planned.
     I started trolling Facebook. Most of the posts in my news feed now were about displaced families and the plight of the New York neighborhoods where they just so recently called home. Although my focus was on the Rockaway Pennisula, I can not stress enough how MANY surrounding neighborhoods were devastated. In Brooklyn alone, there was Coney Island, Brighton Beach, Gerritsen Beach, Manhattan Beach and Sheepshead Bay. Entire neighborhoods, once full of beautiful homes, proud residents, thriving businesses and sacred places of worship, now in ruins. People were choosing their focus and heading out to help.
    Again, I was selfish. I needed to help. Now! I noticed a post on Facebook saying that the local church in Belle Harbor, a neighborhood a few miles from Breezy Point, was open and accepting people for the night. BINGO! Not only did I know exactly where the church was, I have several friends who live in that neighborhood. Whether or not they were there, I could help their friends and family.
    As I was sitting idly and trying to figure out WHAT I was sending in food and WHEN we were going to send it, I got a simultaneous Facebook message and phone call, from the same person. My friend Melissa was online and on the line. She was imploring me to get a move on with the food.
    The storm did not directly effect her immediate comfort. She was safely in North Carolina. She had heat, hot water and electricity, but she was frantic. "Please get those people food, Ellen. They need it tonight. Stop planning and do it!"
    Umm, wow. Yep. She was completely right. The longer I planned to send the food, the longer it took for the food to get there.
     I called the pizza place. Now I, and they, had our marching orders: Deliver 20 pizzas and 3 cases of water to St. Francis Church now. Right now. Go! People are hungry!

The Pizza D'Amore delivery man making his first of many runs

 

   And it was done! 20 pizzas and 3 cases of clean water delivered at 7:00 pm to hungry, cold, tired residents of the Rockaways! It felt amazing. Best I had felt in an entire week! And, as if by sheer willpower of spirit, my heat and hot water were finally turned on! Yay! That was the BEST shower of my entire life! I felt like I was washing away the evil of SSS and starting fresh. For 10 minutes.



    The thing that stuck with me the most was that we could do more. In just two days, we had collected enough money to feed 20 people a warm and comforting meal. We needed to keep this going. I was healing, and healing others, in a small way.
     I still had a long way to go. I was warm, clean, fed, but not happy. Not content. I still did not feel whole. I needed my power back. Not my electricity, my inner power. My Wonderwoman. My Batgirl. So, I needed to write.

Next: Getting My Power Back