Sally Ann

This story needs work, but for the first one written during the hour a day meetings I kind of like where its going. There are issues with the tenses and maybe too much description, not enough action, I'm not sure. Let me know what you think.

SALLY ANN

Where’s Graham? Was the question I asked within minutes of arriving at the Salvation Army’s food packing house. We’re not sure, was the reply. He hasn’t been in for a couple of days. As I stored my jacket and purse on one of the industrial metal shelves that lined the walls of the room, I reflected that Bob didn’t sound worried, even though it wasn’t like Graham to not show up.

Graham is an undereducated line worker who was injured on the job, who now volunteers his time at the Salvation Army food bank to fill his days. He’s a very simple man, in his early 40s, who was forced to retire too soon. He loves to talk, and will discuss anything with anyone who is around to listen. On a typical Monday morning, I’ll arrive at the one storey red brick house on King’s Crescent around ten o’clock, and Graham will be standing at his counter in the basement, filling plastic bags with two cups flour, sugar or powdered milk, to replenish the supply in the packing room. This particular morning he was noticeably absent.

After checking the list on the table, left by Ellen, I started to collect the items for the two-bag ‘Family package.’ All of the non-perishable foods are stacked by type, on gun-metal grey shelves, along the perimeter of the largest room in the basement. A folding table stands in the centre, and my packing partner stands on one side, filling the plastic grocery bags, while I traverse the room, gathering a can of tomatoes, four cans of soup, two cans of protein beans, a jar of peanut butter, and a large package of pasta. On my next pass, I grab a medium can of fruit, two cans of vegetables, three cans of pasta, a box of crackers, two boxes of macaroni and cheese, a Sidekick and a dessert. I place them on the table to be packed, and start on the assembling the next group. I am very glad at the end of an hour that I have the job that involves walking around instead of just standing on the concrete floor, putting the food into bags.

As we work, Bob and Ellen go in and out, replenishing the stacks of canned fruit and stew. They are a retired couple who spend their days running this branch of the SA Food Bank. Donations come in every week from churches, boy and Girl Scout groups, grocery stores and individuals. Most bags are dropped through a metal chute at the side of the house that falls into a huge plastic bin to be sorted on long tables set up perpendicular to each other in the room beside us. Once sorted into the categories, the cans and boxes are loaded into plastic crates, dated the week they arrived, and stacked in the storage room. Along with the packing room, these two rooms are accessed from the main circulation space at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the side entrance of the house.

Graham’s counter is just to the left of the packing room doorway, within earshot of a request for more sugar or rice. Today I found myself calling for more flour and stopping short when there was no response. Graham’s not in today, I was told again, you’ll have to go fill some bags yourself. I finished collecting the items for the bag I was working on, and left the room to go stand at the filling counter. I put on the latex gloves, and pulled the bag of flour up from the shelf below the counter. As I scoop two cups into the little plastic bag and pull it through the gadget that applies a red adhesive to keep it closed, I think of all the things I need to get done after I leave, and hope that Graham is back next week.