Meals on Wheels makes compelling introductions

One story can explain why I have a soft spot in my heart for Meals on Wheels.

It came during my run of delivering for Meals on Wheels in a small town in Indiana. My route included one elderly gentleman who I was about to meet for the first time.

The name isn't important — which is another way for me to say I can't remember it — but let's call him "Hank" for the purpose of this story.

Hank wasn't able to greet me when I knocked on the door to deliver his chicken a la king. I could hear his voice, which appeared to be coming from the depths of a cave. I swung open the door, and had to wait for a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Put it over there on the chair," Hank said of his meal, before his hand emerged from around a corner, pointing at an end table.

I walked through his kitchen, into a small sitting room. Hank was sitting in an easy chair, a blanket covering his legs. The room was big enough for his easy chair, a television set, and not very much more. The chair faced a window, which had the curtains drawn, thus not allowing any light. The flickering light from the television set provided the only illumination.

I saw the meal on the table, looked at Hank and introduced myself. Then told him to have a good day and I headed toward the door.

Hank caught me in my first stride. "I don't think I have seen you before," he said.

It was code for "sit your butt down and talk a while."

Well, Hank, I've got another six meals to get out, but I'm a little ahead of schedule.

I turned around a chair that was at the kitchen table, sat down, and really for the first time, took a look at Hank.

Once I had a girlfriend explain to me why I wasn't very good at remembering names. "It's not important to you," she said.

Same goes for faces, I guess. How many times can you bump into the same person, say a customer, and never really look at their face? My Meals on Wheels days had been dumping off lunches, but not really delivering them to a person.

Hank was going to take me out of my comfort zone.

"I have two sons," Hank offered, as opposed to "How about that weather we're having."

I nodded, and let Hank continue. He told me how they lived out of state and how they were making a great living. Unfortunately, they would be too busy to visit this Thanksgiving, but he was hoping for Christmas.

Next to Hank was his walker and as we talked a bit longer, it was obvious he wasn't mobile at all. Hank wasn't going on any trips.

It was not hard to consider Hank's abode somewhat of a jail cell, albeit a comfortable one. It had all the comforts of home, except for company.

I figured Hank had to be about 90, and I imagined most of his peers were gone. Our simple meeting, although it lasted only 20 minutes, was his Thanksgiving.

Over time, I set aside 20 minutes each time I would drop off a meal for Hank, which was once every two weeks. We talked about his time in the military, his jobs, his loves. I did a lot more listening than talking. Those of you who know me understand that challenge.

Eventually, I moved away, and I am not sure what happened to Hank.

On Sunday, Dec. 3, Meals on Wheels Plus will host its "Shoebox Party," 4 to 6 p.m. at the Daybreak Adult Day Center, 10920 State Road 70, Bradenton. People will donate decorated shoeboxes filled with items for needy, homebound seniors.

Many of those attending will have much more compelling stories than mine.

If Thanksgiving spurs you to find a way to give back, the Shoebox Party would be a good start. You can also sign up for a route, a couple of times a month or more, to give Meals on Wheels Plus a hand.

Yes, plenty of seniors in Lakewood Ranch use the service and I would imagine they hope for more than just food.

Who knows? You might even meet Hank.