Treats for the camp

"So Dustin, what do they need most at Nickelsville?" I waiting to hear "socks."

"Food."

Ooookay. Let's see what we got in the Nightwatch kitchen. Stuff we aren't going to use to feed our hungry hordes.

Manager Ben starts pulling out loaves of bread. Like 40 loaves of bread. "We gotta clear out freezer space. How about these hot dog buns?"

Sure, we can stop and buy hotdogs. Got any peanut butter?

Great, how about jam? Ok. We're set.

I'm driving down to Nickelsville with all this good grub and I stop at the local grocer in Rainier Beach. I've got a "mystery dignitary" with me. Turns out he's vegetarian, but has no problem buying 30 or 40 pounds of hotdogs for homeless people. Thank you Mystery Dignitary for your generous act. You will be rewarded.

Even though it was "quiet time" the news quickly spread about the dogs, the buns, the relish and mustard; a fire was going in the barrel. The thankfulness for this humble provender was palpable. (I've been trying to work that phrase into my blog for years.)

Ponder a moment: why are there people hungry enough to anxiously roast weiners over an open fire at 9:30 at night? I know things are tough, but come on. Let's get meals organized for Nickelsville, ok?