This morning, I went to the Cambridge Pantry to walk around and take some pictures of this very photogenic place. It’s perfect for my monochrome camera, which can be haunting and moody.
I found Sarah Harrington there, hauling a dozen huge boxes out of her car and carrying them into the pantry’s receiving room. I was surprised at how many boxes she held and how many were marked “heavy.” She greeted me and never skipped a beat, hauling and opening, weighting and carrying, filling up those empty shelves one thing at a time.
She had a lot to do and never stopped while I was there. Sarah does not make small talk or waste a minute; she is on an important mission and takes it seriously. She trusted me to do what I pleased; she understood what I needed and let me do it. That is rare.
She deeply feels the need of every needy person in the pantry.
She works and works and works and has no whine or lament. She constantly checks her food and wish lists to see what is needed.
I scraped my plan and followed her for an hour, helping and taking black-and-white pictures when I couldn’t. This was a beautiful story.
Come along on this touching and fascinating trip. It was one of the most touching hours I can recall, from 8 a.m. almost to nine.
The real story for me is the pantry’s behind-the-scenes people; it calls to me—Sarah and her brigade of good-hearted volunteers. They make it happen.
To my knowledge, this has never been seen before. I never had. Everyone works quietly and expects nothing in return. I
It does need to be seen, but our media won’t do it. They don’t consider it news, so I am happy to do it in my own small way.
I call this “Sarah’s Ballet,” from box to box, box to scale, room to room, shelf to shelf boxcutter to box. Somehow, it gets done.
8:05: Sarah hauls the boxes in, weighs them, and fills out a form describing each box—how many pounds it weighs and what’s inside. She then carries them through the door, around back, and stacks them in a pile until she can check them in. Some go to the refrigerator room, some to the freezer, most out onto the shelves for dispersal.
8:15: This is where the boxes go next. Sarah will open each one with a box cutter, unpack the wrappings inside, look for broken bottles, and mutter in delight when she can fill an empty spot on the shelves, where people who need food support come to choose what they want as long as they last. The stuff we are sending – all things not ordinarily available to the pantry or the people who come, disappears quickly. But Sarah is pointedly grateful for every box and bottle she can put on the shelf, saying each time, “It will make someone happy.”
I avoid the “customers,” as Sarah calls them because I want to respect their pride and privacy. I talk with some on the phone or via e-mail.
The volunteers, who have never been photographed, say the blog is okay.
8:20: Sarah knows every inch of that shelf, what will fly out, what might remain, and who might be happy to see it.
8:25: Sarah has been hauling and opening boxes for half an hour since I arrived. She shows no fatigue, never complains, and is happy to see every donated box. “This has made a difference,” she said. If they are lucky, people have something to look forward to.” When she’s done, the boxes are gone, a few waiting for the volunteers who show up almost every day.
8:35: Sarah is pleased to open one box of Romano cheese (very much in demand) and some coffee (also very missed.) His spirits rise thinking of how pleased some of her “customers” will be. It lifts her, every box, every bottle.
8:40: *Sarah suggested I look at the herbal tea shelf to see how empty it was and how long it had been that way.
It was on today’s list of urgently needed foods: Stash Tea Black Tea Variety Pack Sampler Assortment, Non-GMO Project Verified Premium Tea With No Artificial Ingredients. 18-20 Count (Pack Of Six). $16.49.
8:45. Sarah has a meeting to attend. She looks at her phone and sees she needs to get going. She’ll be back in the afternoon to finish filling the shelves with the food sent by the Army Of Good through Amazon. Although naturally shy and rarely speaks about herself, she looks excited about the much-wanted foods.
I left when she did. She is also dynamite with a box cutter, slicing open the Amazon boxes, hauling the ones marked “heavy” around like they were holding toys, clucking when she came across a broken bottle – “Oh, no, she sighs, somebody would love that salad dressing. That would make someone happy. I’ll clean it off later.”
Sarah and I work seamlessly together. We primarily communicate by text. She tells me each day what her most urgent need is, and I try to help her get it with the help of an incredible Army behind me. The requests are always moderate in number and inexpensive in price.
We agree it’s best to ask for one thing daily, with weekends usually off. This feels comfortable to me and, apparently, to many others. As I’ve said a thousand times, people want to do good rather than fight about what good is. We are proving this almost every day.
Our country is having a rough time, and its people are full of love and compassion.
I believe this makes it easier than it might be for people to support it regularly. I enjoyed my hour with Sarah; I felt comfortable. I know little or nothing about her; she never talks about herself, only the needs she tries to fill. I’ll be back at the pantry on Thursday, helping the volunteers stuff those backpacks. They already seem like brothers and sisters to me.
