Grandma Tell Me A Story (Chapter 7) Eating At The Soup Kitchen

In the midst of the great depression The International Apple Association had an over abundance of apples. Consequently, they came up with the idea of selling apples on credit to the unemployed. In this way the apples would be sold and the unemployed could earn a little money from their sales. I remember the apples sold for five cents each.

In Kalamazoo the idea of selling apples really caught on in a big way. Our streets were filled with both men and women standing in the fierce cold shivering as they tried to sell their apples. Apple peddlers were on almost every corner.

Selling apples may have helped in a small way, but it didn't solve the national problem of hunger. Many people were hungry and didn't have the money to a single apple. Kind hearted people and responsible churches and synagogues began giving meals to the poor in what became known as Soup Kitchens.

In Kalamazoo there was an area of town where the homeless built shanties out of cardboard boxes or pieces of tin and discarded boards. Their community was named after President Herbert Hoover, who, with conservative Republican policies, had thrown our country into the depression Many of the men, women and children who were forced to live in Hooverville ate their meals at the free Soup Kitchens.

One day my brother Bob must have noticed that I looked as hungry as he felt. He decided that he and I would go over to the Pitcher Street Soup Kitchen. Bob told me all about it as we walked. I found it hard to believe that he was taking me , his nine year old sister, out to eat a hot meal. Because I was so young, or so hungry, I was thrilled to have this opportunity to have a hot meal and was really very happy Bob counted me in on this great adventure!

We went inside the building and warmth filled the air. I'll never forget walking up to the counter waiting to be served. A man asked my name. Without shame I told him that I was Beverly Jean Amos. He looked surprised and with what was almost a sneer said

"You're Amos' kid. Hell, Amos owns the Jewelry Store. You don't need to eat here, go on home."

I could feel the blood rush to my face. I felt so self-conscious and couldn't understand why it was wrong for my daddy to own a jewelry store. I thought I was in real trouble and felt ashamed that the man didn't like Amos kids and refused to give me a meal. Fortunately another man behind the counter had heard our conversation and he quickly spoke

"Wait a minute kids. Wait a minute, stay right where you are".

Looking right at the person who had refused to serve us this gentleman barked "Go ahead and feed them kids. Who do you think is buying jewelry in this depression? Amos has a house full of hungry kids. You make sure to feed them any time they are here. Anytime, you hear, anytime."

When I was handed that big heavy mug full of soup, along with a large hunk of bread, I felt ashamed and quietly slipped over to a table hidden way off in a corner. However  the uncomfortable feelings of self-consciousness and confusion were short lived.

The moment I took my first bite of that delicious hot meal it was easy to put aside all pride as I savored the tasty soup. Actually the soup was more of a coffee colored broth. It tasted wonderful to me! The freshly baked bread tasted like manna from heaven. Enjoying both a stomach filling and appetizing meal was a luxury we seldom experiences. Indeed until I ate at the Pitcher Street Soup Kitchen the hard times of the depression had taken away all my memories of what it was like to enjoy a hot and satisfying meal.

About twenty years ago when I was living in Kalamazoo, Michigan I signed up at the Winchell Way Disciples of Christ Christian Church as a soup kitchen volunteer. The second Sunday of each month I helped distribute meals at one of the local Kalamazoo Soup Kitchens. The awareness of poverty and hunger in the world today saddens me and I wish it were not necessary for people to know that the only way they will find a meal is to visit a Soup Kitchen. However, being able to have the experience of giving back is a blessing I treasure. I always had a feeling of inner peace when I went to Winchell Way Christian Church on Sundays I was scheduled to work at the kitchen. The knowledge that after services I would let my actions show my belief of "doing unto others" fed me in oh so many ways. I was blessed.