The Bath

I don't really remember when Annie came to Soledad Street -- perhaps she was there when the young John Steinbeck crossed the railroad tracks in search of characters and a good story... maybe she was like Patricia... her family came into the Soup Kitchen, introduced her, and said, "You take care of her. We can't anymore." With that they turned and walked out of the door: and their mother's life... that's how it is on the street...
People just sort of show up and find their place -- or are shoved into one... maybe Annie was like that... Or maybe, behind her nearly toothless smile and terrible sincerity, she was something entirely different...
Young volunteers were always attracted to Annie: no one could have imagined a better image for "homeless woman" than Annie. A very slight, even frail, figure... hair always pulled back into a tight bun and covered in a cruddy bandana... skintight black pants and ragged black coat... and a face with lines so deep you couldn't help but think of the canyons of the Southwest, and burnt brown from years lying on the pavement of Chinatown: the volunteer would carry the bowl of soup and wrapped sandwich to her as if to a visiting dignitary... the young volunteer would arrange her blanket, lay her head upon her shoulder, and softly say, "Will you pray for me?" Nearly-toothless Annie would laugh and say. "Oh dear!"
A newspaper reporter, ever in search of the human interest story, stopped by Annie's home on the sidewalk and thought he'd ask some probing questions... he started right at the top of his page: "Why do you live here the way that you do?" Annie, as if bothered by a troublesome fly, succinctly responded, "I'm working." Of course, the reporter proceeded: "What sort of work do you do?" Annie responded with, "I'm watching my building." Confused, the reporter plodded on: "What building?" "
"My building. That building across the street," said Annie.
"That building belongs to you?"
"No, of course not. It belongs to my children."
"So... you're watching the building for your children? Why does it need watching?"
"I keep my eye on it so no one burns it down. And did you know that my teeth are starting to grow back?"
He looks at his clipboard of questions, says thank you, and turns to walk away...
On another day, someone drove up and gave Katie a bag, saying that we could have the coat, and then drove away. Coming back into the Kitchen, Katie opened the bag to discover a genuine mink stole. What was a Soup Kitchen to do with a mink stole? Some days passed, and Katie and I blossomed with the same brilliant idea: we would try to convince Annie to come upstairs and take a bath -- then we would give her the coat! Why not?
This idea was going to take some work: we decided we'd talk about it for a long while: so we brought the idea up to Annie, saying we'd plan a time for her private bath. We'd get her new clothes. We'd make it really wonderful and special: she could lay in the tub for as long as she wanted... didn't a bubble bath sound great?
We picked a date a few weeks away to give Annie plenty of time to get used to the idea... so far as we knew, she never showered and her clothes had that subtle sheen of never leaving contact with the skin... "Are you getting ready? Tomorrow is the big day!"
We placed candles around the tub... had incense burning in the room... a jar of candy... and new clothing draped over a chair... and right there: the black mink stole: Annie's color... Okay! Let's do it!
Walking to Annie's spot on the sidewalk, we happily say, "We're ready for you! We've got everything set up! Come on! Let's go!"
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm working."
All of our talk about candles and hot running water had no affect at all. Annie was easily twice as determined as we were. She could drill holes through our eyes with the look in hers: she was not going anywhere! Katy and I looked at each other: neither of us could accept the defeat of our plan: so we tried again: three o'clock in the afternoon, and Annie pulled her blanket over her head and said "Goodnight", as she lay down upon her cardboard bed...
Later, as we left the street, Katie draped the mink stole over the blanket that covered Annie. Maybe she woke up and saw it. Maybe she rushed off and sold it and opened a bank account for a trip to Disneyland with her children. Maybe someone walking passed her snagged it... all we know is that we never saw it again...
A couple of times every year the City Police would come out in force and say to the homeless, "Move on! You have five minutes to pack your things and move on!" City work crews would grab their brooms and shovels and throw the homes of the homeless into dumpsters...
Annie stood in the rain with me as her cardboard was peeled from the pavement. She said, "I don't worry about my children's building burning when it rains." In a few hours the block is stripped and bare. The dumpsters were hauled away. The police took a slow, satisfied, look around... got into their white cars like they were mounting glorious steeds, and left Chinatown to itself to put the pieces back together again... sometimes a good deed for the day, like a donated mink stole or another police sweep, is just a pain in the ass... best put it behind us...
There is always soup to cook...
"Will you take this bowl of soup and sandwich out to Annie? She's the little old woman all dressed in black near the street corner. She'll make your day!"
The "nothing much" of life in a Soup Kitchen is sort of like a family... perhaps a really weird family... but, nevertheless, a family. It is not possible to know all the "whys": why does this person crumble in life, and that person thrive? Everyone's capacity for the "stuff" that life throws at us is different: somehow though, in the sharing of stories, in the listening to the silent spaces between the words, it is truly possible to "entertain angels"... and so we may find that some of our "holes" have mysteriously been patched... It is by loving that we discover Love: there really is no other way than that of "service, surrender, and then on into, solidarity"... You, where are you right now? Listen intently, can you hear across the sweep of time and distant place, Annie calling out to you, as your thought-steps approach, "Hi babe!"
If the theories of the mystics are true, someday the Holy One will be saying the very same thing to each one of us, "Hi babe!" ... And all will be well and all manner of things very, very, well...