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Diary of a Naive volunteer is a memoir of my involvement in a soup kitchen in NYC. As a server I got to meet various people and listen to their stories. Some I tried helping…that’s where Naive comes in. I wasn’t prepared for the types of problems that some people faced, and how they dealt with them I came to realize that their actions and reactions to rules were the same as anyone else. Of course there were exceptions…

“Push Steve damnit willya!”

“I am!! It’s stuck!”

Me and Leroy were delivering a couch up a three story walkup.

“It’s caught on the banister!” I yell

“Well lift the damn thing off!”

There was no way. We couldn’t even get the couch around the bend onto the landing and we still had more flights to go. We thought this day was going to be easy since we were assigned one of the small trucks and assumed we’d be running antiques around the city; pickups and deliveries. Small stuff. Things that wouldn’t be big and bulky. Our first stop was Sotheby’s, and we picked up an ancient Chinese chest, wrapped it with blankets, and moved it to the truck on a dolly. But we knew the chest was too long to fit into the truck, and we had to disassemble some of it.
The chest was built like an ancient puzzle, put together in a very complicated way. It had beautiful paintings and designs carved into it. But it was too long to fit into the truck. So we took it apart. Our destination was a Fifth Avenue apartment in the upper 60’s. Many pieces of furniture and art were being delivered that day because new occupants were moving in. The decorator wanted everything to look perfect for his clients. So he asked us if we would put the chest back together and set it up for him. That wasn’t our job. But then again the decorator didn’t order a chest to come in a few sections. So we volunteered to help him out, but we couldn’t possibly remember where anything went. And by now the chest was disassembled even further. The decorator was losing his temper and we decided this was the time to leave. So we gathered up our blankets and dollies, got back into the truck and took off to our next job which was getting this huge couch up to the fourth floor of a Brownstone walkup. The couch was scrunched against the wall above Leroy’s head and he was trying to raise it high enough to make the turn around the banister. I was unable to get around the stairs to help him. So he suggested I shimmy up the banister to get to where he was. But I had no interest in doing that. It unnerved me. But something had to be done. We were wasting time. Leroy thought it could work. He’s a big man, an ex boxer. If his hands could reach mine he would just pull me up to him. But it would mean I would be in the air while he’s leaning over a banister whose strength was unknown to us. We didn’t know what else to do. So, I straddled the banister and began pulling myself up, hoping to reach Leroy with only a few pulls. But it was further than I thought, and I knew right away, if I made it I was going to quit this job. Then I felt Leroy’s hand on my head. I knew I was high enough. I only had to let go and reach his hands. But my whole body shook.

“What the hell are you doing Steve!”

I couldn’t answer. I was petrified.

Then he grabs hold of my shirt with both hands and jerks me off the banister onto the landing.

“What’s the matter with you anyway, Steve!”

Leroy just saved my life.

After that it was a piece of cake. We ascended the stairs with relative ease, got the couch into the apartment and were done. It was time for lunch. We went looking for a bodega. I got my tuna on whole wheat, Leroy got three beers. I liked closing my eyes for a moment after lunch, but Leroy always went on a talking jag after a couple beers. I paid as little attention to him as I could because he always complained about something. But after each beer his voice got louder and louder and there was no way I could sleep. Lunch was over.

Our next job was at an estate on Long Island where we needed to pick up some couches and chairs, bring them back into Manhattan for repairs and re-covering. It was going to be the last job of the day. We drove along a small road off the Long Island Expressway, then turned into a smaller road, and drove onto a large estate with rolling hills and one lane roads. The grounds were absolutely beautiful. Tall trees, grasses, bushes, flower gardens, horse corrals — At first we thought one of the corrals might be the main house. It was that big. All the structures were large and far apart. Only one building was visible at any time along these tiny roads. The main house was a beautiful Tudor-like structure with art work on the walls: Renoir, Degas, Picasso, Rembrandt, Van Gogh. There was even a Paul Klee. And from these rooms we took a lot of furniture and loaded the truck. The concierge was gracious and offered us fresh squeezed orange juice. Leroy asked for a couple beers. I took the juice. When Leroy asked for a third beer the concierge showed us the door.
SRS 9/28/11 NYC
FIN