I just sing Boys II Men and keep spreading mayo... Yes to all of this! I feel the only real work I contribute is during my shift at the local food pantry. Thank you for this reminder that making sandwiches does matter. And the pro tip to bring your own spatula.
This is beautiful! What stuck with me is how repetitive work can bea grounding ritual. When I was going thru a tough patch last year, I volunteered at afood bank just sorting cans and it was weirdly therapeutic. Your point about being on the "wrong side of the buffet" really hit—it's that weird mix of gratitude and guilt that comes with privilege
Courtney, your substack was only recently suggested to me by the almighty algorithm (which got it right this time!) but I recognize your name from On Being.
Every word of this piece resonated with me. I have been doing similar work with the kids at my UU congregation in the NYC suburbs (I think you are a UU too?) and it is so meaningful to me. A grown ass woman can indeed make a sandwich. And like you, I find it gets me out of my head, feeds my soul, and helps me connect. Leading the kids in this work (we put the sandwiches in to-go bags with drinks & snacks, so we have a big assembly line that even the 5-6 year olds can help with) and seeing them experience that feeling too is therapy for me.
Your essay inspires me in a timely way. Our church has a program called SOOP, Senior Opportunities with Our Partners. Stuart and I will spend two weeks doing some form of service, likely preparing food at shelters, in Phoenix. Friends have described how much they enjoyed participating in the program. I'll remember to take some of your learnings -- the importance of eye contact and empathy, recognizing privilege but not letting that knowledge freeze one into inaction. Singing. Joy. Bringing the experience back home.
Gorgeous photo and magnificent remedy for very tired souls like Sharron and me (87-so you’re far too young from the class of’02!).
Gandhi called this kind of work the Constructive Program, absolutely essential for disciplined nonviolent political action.
Remember our praise of the Black Panther “breakfast program” and having their leaders speak to our Modern Political Movements class? These are prerequisites for civil disobedience!
Thank you, Courtney and Jen. I found Jen through your substack and ordered her beautiful calendar, which I'm loving. This is such a touching piece, radiant with a kind of humble, grounded courage and love. Thank you.
I'm not sure why this writing made me cry, something about the recognition of everything I have, perhaps? I appreciate it. I appreciate this writing and this giving, thank you.
I am glad you can do this. For thirty-five years I baked weekly for a men's mission downtown, until with Covid they stopped accepting homemade things.
In twenty minutes I will be heading out to what I now do instead three days a week- dropping baggies of homemade treats- brownies today- to the pantry behind the local church, the mutual aid frig, as I call it, though it isn't refrigerated.
This sort of thing, or dropping things off that you buy at the grocery store, is something typically easy to fit into a life.
Before Covid I used to volunteer weekly at a Recovery Cafe for those working through mental illnesses, addiction, and homelessness. My two regular activities there were participating in a weekly writing circle and serving dinner at the talent night each month. It was one of my favorite things I have ever done for the years I did it.
I am glad you have made regular room for this sort of activity in your life.
There are Recovery Cafes also in San Jose, Oakland, and Hayward, part of what is called the Recovery Cafe Network. The originator is a wonderful woman named Killian Noe.
I think you would love her. You might consider interviewing her!
She has a book from years back and online talks. Probably a TEDx talk but also others.
Last November I gathered with some others at a senior community center the evening before Thanksgiving, to set up tables and do food prep for the next day's community Thanksgiving Dinner. I sat at a table with two women I didn't know and had conversation while they peeled and I chopped sixty pounds of russet potatoes. It was a small amount of time for a big-hearted feeling of real community. I will be seeking out more opportunities to serve, there. I find such grace in these smaller efforts, these quiet moments of service.
This is the whole thing, right? "I sat at a table with two women I didn't know and had conversation while they peeled and I chopped sixty pounds of russet potatoes." Find yourself some strangers and sixty pounds of potatoes and things will be better.
Love this, Courtney! It inspires me in a way I needed today. ❤️🩹
This was a balm to my tired soul and a nudge I most definitely needed. Thank you.
You are lovely and real to your core and inspiring. Thank you 🙏🏻
I just sing Boys II Men and keep spreading mayo... Yes to all of this! I feel the only real work I contribute is during my shift at the local food pantry. Thank you for this reminder that making sandwiches does matter. And the pro tip to bring your own spatula.
This is beautiful! What stuck with me is how repetitive work can bea grounding ritual. When I was going thru a tough patch last year, I volunteered at afood bank just sorting cans and it was weirdly therapeutic. Your point about being on the "wrong side of the buffet" really hit—it's that weird mix of gratitude and guilt that comes with privilege
Yes, when you're feeling helpless, help someone, right? So real for me.
Courtney, your substack was only recently suggested to me by the almighty algorithm (which got it right this time!) but I recognize your name from On Being.
Every word of this piece resonated with me. I have been doing similar work with the kids at my UU congregation in the NYC suburbs (I think you are a UU too?) and it is so meaningful to me. A grown ass woman can indeed make a sandwich. And like you, I find it gets me out of my head, feeds my soul, and helps me connect. Leading the kids in this work (we put the sandwiches in to-go bags with drinks & snacks, so we have a big assembly line that even the 5-6 year olds can help with) and seeing them experience that feeling too is therapy for me.
Thanks for sharing this and making my day!
Your essay inspires me in a timely way. Our church has a program called SOOP, Senior Opportunities with Our Partners. Stuart and I will spend two weeks doing some form of service, likely preparing food at shelters, in Phoenix. Friends have described how much they enjoyed participating in the program. I'll remember to take some of your learnings -- the importance of eye contact and empathy, recognizing privilege but not letting that knowledge freeze one into inaction. Singing. Joy. Bringing the experience back home.
You know I adore this. Every word!
I think of you every time I go there, I swear! I've always loved your pics of meals you've served.
Gorgeous photo and magnificent remedy for very tired souls like Sharron and me (87-so you’re far too young from the class of’02!).
Gandhi called this kind of work the Constructive Program, absolutely essential for disciplined nonviolent political action.
Remember our praise of the Black Panther “breakfast program” and having their leaders speak to our Modern Political Movements class? These are prerequisites for civil disobedience!
DD
Thank you, Courtney and Jen. I found Jen through your substack and ordered her beautiful calendar, which I'm loving. This is such a touching piece, radiant with a kind of humble, grounded courage and love. Thank you.
I'm not sure why this writing made me cry, something about the recognition of everything I have, perhaps? I appreciate it. I appreciate this writing and this giving, thank you.
Thank you for this: it resonates. It's so hard to find the words for these experiences/practices and you found them.
I am glad you can do this. For thirty-five years I baked weekly for a men's mission downtown, until with Covid they stopped accepting homemade things.
In twenty minutes I will be heading out to what I now do instead three days a week- dropping baggies of homemade treats- brownies today- to the pantry behind the local church, the mutual aid frig, as I call it, though it isn't refrigerated.
This sort of thing, or dropping things off that you buy at the grocery store, is something typically easy to fit into a life.
Before Covid I used to volunteer weekly at a Recovery Cafe for those working through mental illnesses, addiction, and homelessness. My two regular activities there were participating in a weekly writing circle and serving dinner at the talent night each month. It was one of my favorite things I have ever done for the years I did it.
I am glad you have made regular room for this sort of activity in your life.
And I always appreciate the photos of Stella.
Recovery Cafe sounds amazing! So glad you had that in your life for a season.
There are Recovery Cafes also in San Jose, Oakland, and Hayward, part of what is called the Recovery Cafe Network. The originator is a wonderful woman named Killian Noe.
I think you would love her. You might consider interviewing her!
She has a book from years back and online talks. Probably a TEDx talk but also others.
Last November I gathered with some others at a senior community center the evening before Thanksgiving, to set up tables and do food prep for the next day's community Thanksgiving Dinner. I sat at a table with two women I didn't know and had conversation while they peeled and I chopped sixty pounds of russet potatoes. It was a small amount of time for a big-hearted feeling of real community. I will be seeking out more opportunities to serve, there. I find such grace in these smaller efforts, these quiet moments of service.
This is the whole thing, right? "I sat at a table with two women I didn't know and had conversation while they peeled and I chopped sixty pounds of russet potatoes." Find yourself some strangers and sixty pounds of potatoes and things will be better.