Lawrence Thomas Casey Essays - Pickles, 9, Sweet Pickles

Lawrence: Thomas Casey Richard Sweeney November 29, 1999 Thomas Casey Throughout the fall semester I did community service at a thrift shop and soup kitchen in Lawrence. There I experienced things I have never encountered before in my life. These experiences have taught me a lot, and have truly made me look at Americas underprivileged, in a new light. The hours I put in at the food pantry had a greater affect on me than the thrift shop. On October 16, 1999 another classmate and I were brought to the food pantry in the middle of a poor section of Lawrence. We were brought inside and I was instructed to serve salad, bread, and pickles. My heart really went out to the unfortunate people when they started coming up to me. I felt extremely bad for them. There were people of all ages. Parents with their children, wearing dirt stained clothing filled with holes that did not even fit them. A good amount of the people I had to deal with were Hispanic and very few of them were able to speak English. It was very difficult to communicate with them. The little faces of the innocent children made me really feel for them. I knew these children had insecure families and were looked at as though they were fortunate to be getting food. These young kids seemed to be very appreciative that they were able to get some food in their starving bellies. There was one incident that will always stick with me. There was a mother with her two sons and daughter that had gotten in line to get their food. The two boys must have been around six years old and eleven years old. The girl was probably about nine years of age. The mother had gone first and got all her food and sat down. Then the little girl and her older brother went. The little six-year-old had dirt stains and tares all over his gray sweat pants. His innocent face said nothing to me. He stood there staring at me in the eye with a sad look. I asked him if he wanted to have some salad and he shook his head from side to side implicating no. Then I asked if he would like to have some bread and he again shook his head from side to side. Then the last thing I was serving which were pickles. I asked the child if he would like some pickles and his head immediately started to nod up and down meaning he wanted some. The smile on his face went from one ear to the other. He appeared so tha nkful to have gotten some pickles. I gave the young boy a bunch of pickles. The boy quickly went to his seat and sat there with a huge grin on his face and enjoyed his pickles. After he finished the pickles on his plate he then walk up to the counter that he could barely see over hesitated for a minute and in this very quite voice he asked me Can I please have some more pickles? The voice of the child was so faint that I could hardly hear him. This boy was so shy. I told him he was more than welcome to have some more. I think that I made the little boys day by giving him more pickles. He had a smile on his face for the rest of the day. It made me feel really good that I was able to make the boy happy. At the thrift shop, about ninety percent of the people were Hispanic. One of the workers at the thrift shop I encountered could not talk English so it was very difficult for him to tell me anything. This one time when it was just he and I and we were testing a dryer to see if it still worked, he was trying to tell me to move the dryer near an outlet so we could plug it in. I had no clue what so ever what he was trying to instruct me to do. I just stood there looking at the man and we both felt helpless because we could not communicate