“Well, I’ll be here every Sunday if you need an extra hand Bill.”
“This is one of the busiest soup kitchens in the Chicago Metropolitan area. Of course we need help. In fact we can start right now, if you’d like.”
“Fine. Let’s get to work. What would you like me to do?”
After the tables and warming trays were set up and a group of unfortunate persons made their way through the food line, I spotted the yoga teacher. She looked like a hippy starlet, fashionably late in thigh high leather boots, skirt and leotard under a big fluffy faux-fur coat. Her entrance certainly brightened the gloomy mood of the place. All heads turned to her as she squeezed her slender waist behind the long tables and picked up a serving ladle. The staff said hi to her and she apologized for being late. I stared at
