So, I get invited to the volunteer luncheon put on by the school each spring, even though I thought I had been passed over (another blog), but the folded-in half invitation in italic font came home in the kids folders one day, and on the calendar it went. For many of the same reasons as I volunteer in the class, I went to the volunteer luncheon.
The luncheon was on a half day, early school dismissal, so the day was kind of a mad dash...but by the time the luncheon began I was out of my grungy clothes, had done the one-day-sale grocery shopping and dropped off the goods at home, and was in a sundress, perfumed up and lip-glossed, with a smile on my face. If you've ever navigated school functions, you know how important that smile is.
The luncheon was a buffet. Hot coffee, fruit salad, fresh bagels...I went straight to the coffee. Fuel for my smile.
Fold-out chairs were assembled in circles throughout the school auditorium, and there were several circles in which I could have planted myself, at least one person I knew in each circle. I had grapes sliding north, south, east and west on my paper plate, ready to fall and cause someone (probably me) to slip, and I needed to commit and park it. I almost sat next to my friend from back east with an accent. But there was someone sitting alone in a circle, by the door.
Well, I don't like seeing people alone. I understand that there are people who enjoy solitude (I am one of them, please don't call me on Fridays between 3:00-6:00 p.m.), but this volunteer luncheon was a social function. Walking through the heavy doors of the school auditorium involved a commitment to chat, mingle, get to know people better, and smile (don't forget the smile) while forking at grapes on a floral print plate.
I sat next to the lone volunteer and I mentally recalled my conversation-starters from the part of my brain that remembers being employed.
What drew me to this volunteer, this 60-something woman, was the fact that I had not seen her at school before, I was almost certain she was not a school parent or grandparent. I had a feeling she was one of the seniors who volunteer their time at schools where the budget falls short of hiring people.
Turns out, I was right.
Joanne was her name, and she, I learned, reads with kids every week for a few hours. My meager volunteering experience, I think this task is one of the hardest. It involves encouragement, repetition, optimism, and diligence.
We chatted more. Other people joined us. Joanne's appearance now took on a more personal quality to me - her hair was short, she's busy and doesn't want to fuss with it. She had only coffee, it wasn't her usual time for lunch. Her glasses were the kind that go light inside and dark outside, she travels light (these are all assumptions, but I was subconsciously building this woman's character up with increasing speed, I do that). Because she had me at the words "retired nurse." She had me when she told me how she and her husband drive seniors to their doctors appointments and take meals to them - seniors who have no one else to do these things. "I don't know what they'd do without us," she straightened her blouse from the cuff and cleared her throat, settling back into her fold-out chair with a solemn smile.
Gosh, I don't know what this world would be like without people like you, I thought.
"So you're still in the service industry, even in retirement!" I added with enthusiasm I hoped she would infer as appreciation, after all, it was a day for appreciation.
"Indeed I am," she replied, and nodded her head.
"My grandmother was a nurse," I felt selfish for adding that. I wanted to hear all bout Joanne, but adding this footnote about my grandmother may loosen her up and encourage more conversation. I already had started writing about her in my head, and I needed additional material.
"Oh, is that right?" she asked, seeming pleased to let me talk for a while, sipping her coffee. I mentioned how my grandmother retired here in California from Ohio and then volunteered at a free clinic at the beach, and how my grandfather volunteered his spare time driving a school bus to keep himself busy while Grandma did her thing. "When I was a teenager and my grandfather would drive by our house and honk the big school bus horn, I used to die of embarrassment," I popped a couple of grapes in my mouth. "Now, I think volunteers are heroes, and I still see my Grandpa hunched over that big wheel with just a big smile on his face." Joanne smiled and said "Hmmm."
Darn. She's done talking. Other people joined in our circle. Get away, other people. Joanne is my own personal hope for humanity and I was talking to her first.
"My husband and I though are taking a vacation here in a few days, we're volunteering then too," she straightened her shirt again from the collar. Predictable and selfless. I LOVE this woman. Before I could ask, she was giving everyone who sat around her now the details of her...get this...Alaskan ranger vacation at a national park.
"So you get to have the vacation the rest of us can't even get or even book online?" Excuse me, Mr. Volunteer Dad, that was my line, I got this story started. Continue, Joanne.
Joanne was loose now. Her face lit up, her cheeks got rosy, and her shoulders broadened. Or maybe the caffeine in her coffee kicked in. "Every summer we go up to a state park in Alaska and volunteer at the campsites. We get to see everything, eagles, a moose being born in front of us, it's just....amazing."
Some people process what the world offers with effervescence, and help make it a better place while they're here. Some people are filled with goodness and you can't help but wonder if you may have come into contact with such people because your faith was a little shaky...
I want to be a better person, I want to transcend through osmosis and, Heaven help me, even chit-chat.
May I join you?
May I listen to you and let you remind me of my Grandma, may I silently trip out on how you look like my bestie's biological mother, may I emulate you next time I catch myself griping about helping with another craft project with 5 year olds, may I blog about you because for once, ONCE! someone I put on a pedestal truly deserved it?
You just can't put an estimate on giving. You can't. It ripples.
I sat and listened to Joanne talk about how she and her husband will spend their summer, and in another attempt to connect with her, I discussed our first state park camping experience last summer, as well as our Pacific Northwest vacation years ago, and I simply enjoyed talking about something besides budget cuts or what class my child was in this year, or hopefully will be in next year. I continued to paint a picture of Joanne, but more of a worthy illusion, of her helping campers, keeping the state park in check, and I believe that no wildlife will go unnoticed or unappreciated in her presence. She'll be surrounded by nature while she does what is in her nature - assisting others and improving what she can.
She and her husband usually drive to Alaska but this year they're taking a cruise to their destination, they're making the most of the journey. I wanted to say "May I join you?" (I so adore cruising), but instead I smiled (a genuine smile) to myself, emphatically stated she absolutely must have the time of her life, because, no doubt about it, she deserves it.
Just ask any of the kids who can read better now.
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