By MARC WOLLIN
If you sign up for a shift at the Community Center of Northern Westchester on any given day, you meet a group of like-minded people. Each is giving their time to help those who need it. The tasks range from sorting donated clothes, to helping people pick out gently worn duds from the “shop” upstairs. You might pick up donations of food from local stores or farms, or deliver groceries to those stuck at home. You might help stock the shelves with vegetables or canned goods, or work the counter checking out those shopping and help pack their bags and carts.
Each three-hour shift has its own cast, some regulars, some fill-ins. Volunteers all, they hail from all walks of life, from students to retirees, to those who carve out a few hours a week from their regular jobs and worlds to be of help. As with any endeavor there are people of all types: quiet ones and outgoing sorts, deliberate workers and frantic ones, talkers and listeners. As one of the regulars, I can say it’s all good: it’s affirming to be around any type of person who shares the common bond of wanting to do good and help people who, for whatever reason, need a little extra at this point in their lives to get them through.
Deliveries and donations come in throughout the week, an ebb and flow that is hard to predict. But if you go on a Friday morning it’s a little different, as that’s the day of the biggest deliveries. One is from Feeding Westchester, the county food bank, while the other is from Driscoll, a commercial distributor. The amount varies week to week, but all told a typical Friday drop is three to 10 pallets, each weighing between 400 and 1,000 pounds. There might be 30 forty-pound cases of chicken drumsticks, 20 forty-pound sacks of potatoes, the same of onions and beets, 30 cases of peanut butter, 20 of jelly, plus rice, mac ‘n’ cheese, cereal, canned corn, dried beans, baby food and milk, both boxed and fresh. Add it all up and you are talking between 4,000 and 12,000 pounds of fresh, frozen and shelf-stable foodstuffs. And that’s the day the “Pallet Boys” come together.
Our nominal head is Anthony, the assistant operations manager who is on staff, and who has an actual plan to store and stage all that stuff. He has to captain and try to manage the rotating cast of characters that shows up to help with the juggle. That motley crew varies based on personal work schedules, vacations, doctors’ appointments and injuries. The regulars include Rob and Rob, Paulie and Steve, and yours truly. Various others show up as available, some one-off guests, some former regulars or newbies; all are welcomed with genuine open arms and good-natured mocking. Honorary members include Crystal, who handles the produce, James who checks in those coming to shop, and operations manager Nicole, who runs the volunteer program and is responsible for us all, not to mention the inventory. With no disrespect intended to that fabled assembly from World War II, some might call us a Band of Brothers. If you discount the trappings of the rap origins of the name and the facial grease paint, a more accurate description might be the Insane Clown Posse.
That’s because, as volunteers, we sort-of answer to Anthony, but none of us are looking for a promotion or to build a career there. As such, the atmosphere is irreverent to say the least. Put downs and insults are the currency of the day, jokes and asides the coin of the realm. It’s hard, physical work in all kinds of weather, be it heat, rain or snow. And we have to do it while not hurting ourselves or the clients whom the center serves — no small feat for a bunch of generally older guys with iffy backs hauling sacks that have the consistency of dead bodies. It’s a dance with hand trucks and boxes, a “Nutcracker Suite” with actual nuts, both human and shelf stable.
With any luck the trucks come early, the frozen blueberries get put away before they start to thaw and leak, and we knock it out by lunchtime. After that it’s pizza to unwind and to continue any “important” discussions, review weekend plans and confirm who is coming the following Friday. After all, they’re expecting 800 pounds of frozen salami, and it ain’t gonna put itself away.
Marc Wollin of Bedford has been volunteering at CCNW for the last four years; it's become his second home and family. His column appears weekly via email and online at glancingaskance.blogspot.com and marcwollin.substack.com, as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.