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#CaringForCommunity: Inside & Outside

#CaringForCommunity is a blog series that spotlights the work of writers, artists, or your next-door neighbors who, without being asked and without pay, carry the light in simple but meaningful ways. These are people giving back in order to lift others up. Real life examples of compassion, concern, and inspiration.

Inside

The last time I posted on #CaringForCommunity, I mentioned Tricklebee Cafe in Milwaukee, a pay-what-you-can community restaurant that serves organic, locally-sourced food. My husband and I ate there recently, and let’s just say I felt good all around, belly and soul.

For this edition of the blog series, I want to spotlight Curt’s Cafe in Evanston, IL. Curt’s Cafe is a nonprofit organization that runs along a similar philosophy, opening their doors to young people in need of compassion, acceptance, and a place to connect.

“The mission of Curt’s Cafe is to offer job skill and life skill training to highly, highly at-risk young men and young women and help them with those skills, then help them get a job and keep a job. . . . And we don’t turn anyone away, no matter what they’ve done.” ~ Susan Trieschmann, Executive Director

Watch That’s My Child (above, from Small Forces on Vimeo) about Curt’s Cafe. Checkout their website. Better yet, when in Evanston, stop in for a cup of coffee and a dose of kindness.

Outside

After you sip that coffee cup of inspiration, head home, pop a Zyrtec, and get back outside to spread more love. This time in your garden. Rebecca Straus in “Grow These 50 Pollen-Rich Plants to Help Your Local Honeybees” (Organic Life) explains:

It’s no secret honeybee populations are hurting. Colony collapse disorder, which occurs when the majority of worker bees in a hive disappear, abandoning the queen, baby bees, nurse bees, and food, is decimating hives at an astounding rate. And a shortage of honeybees can have a very real impact on our food supply. Farmers who grow crops from strawberries to squash to almonds rely on hives of traveling honeybees to pollinate their fields. No bees means no food.

I like food. So does Tricklebee, so does Curt’s. And you. Consider it #CaringForCommunity in the round, beginning on one tiny city lot and reaching well beyond.

“…one of the easiest steps you can take is to grow more plants that honeybees like to feast on for nectar and pollen. Here are the flowers, shrubs, trees, herbs, and—yes—weeds that will give honeybees (and native pollinators!) a helping hand.”

A little hay fever for a happy beehive? I say, Yes. And I bet there’s a patch of yard within eyesight that could use a little color.

Think coneflower and crocus and pretty, flowering onions.

 

 

 

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Inside | Outside, The Reading: Community in Action

Inside | Outside, the most recent anthology of work by the writers at Harwood Place, made its humble debut last Saturday. In front of a full house, the authors each gave a stellar reading of their pieces from the podium. They spoke with ease and with grace, and one spoke for a writer who was unable to attend.

Earlier in the week, I received a phone call from a long-time participant, Richard, who said he couldn’t make it. He’d been down and out for the last several weeks, was recuperating well, but knew he would not be at the event. This reading highlights our year as writers together, so I understood, even before he said it, that missing the afternoon was a great disappointment. For all of us, really. Richard is the patriarch of the group–and he’s quite tall; his absence would be a void. So we did the next best thing: looked for someone to stand in for him and read what he had written.

Finding a proxy didn’t take long. Richard is not only a leader in the group but a good friend to many and a cheerful spirit for all. I had a response to an email request within an hour and assurance that his piece would not be left out. But what happened next speaks even more to the heart and temperament of this group.

As is my custom at these events, I run around sweating and testing the mic and helping the writers find their order in the line up. I make sure everyone is settled, and then I always begin the reading with a little introduction. But before I could take my place at the podium this time, I had to check on the lemonade and cookies, which were late to arrive, which are as critical to the afternoon as a strong mic for an older generation of men and women whose voices sometimes fall to a whisper. So I slipped away for a second in search of the refreshments.

When I walked back into the room, Chuck, another compatriot of the group, had picked up the mic to ready the audience with a little ad-lib and a smile. Then, he spoke of Richard, who had “gone AWOL,” as he said–absent without leave, excused but still–and gave a beautiful tribute to him by reading “An Ode to Richard.” Steady and most gentle of men. It became clear that absent or not, Richard was still very much a part of the event.

Beginning this year, I am sharing my teaching duties with a colleague, who will alternate months with me. While this frees up my time to pursue more of my own writing, I won’t lie: it’s tough to let go of this group even a little bit. I may be their teacher, but as is often the case, I am their student as well. They continue to serve as witnesses in the ways of community, cherishing stories from every corner of the table, vowing to ensure each person’s words are heard, honoring that connection, and taking care of one another. An important lesson these days.

Community in action with gratitude of the time spent together.

From left to right: Mary, me, Val, Chuck, LaVerne, Betty, Ruth, and Mary.
Not pictured but greatly missed: Richard.