I hold the privacy of the people who come to the food pantry in the highest regard. I never intrude with a camera when any of the patrons are there, and I never ask to take their photos. This respect for their privacy is a non-negotiable principle for me before I seek help from others. Their confidentiality is always upheld.

If I could help them in any way, I’d be interested in trying. If I meet more, I may ask the Army of Good for help with some small and urgent needs.

Sarah has connected me with some and spoken to them about me. Many read the blog. I told her I needed to take a picture of some of them. It’s a policy of mine to show images of the things I ask people to help and support. It’s an integral part of my stories.People are only real if I take a picture of them.

Transparency is key in showcasing the impact of your donations and the individuals you are supporting. Pictures make it all transparent.

This was my policy with the Myanmar refugees and remains the same with the residents at the Mansion. Whether I’m seeking help or not, if I write about someone, my readers should have the opportunity to see them and understand the real impact of their contributions. I understand if they can’t or won’t, but I usually walk away.

 

The food pantry situation is very different for me; it can’t be done in the open.  People must feel their privacy is protected.

Many patrons feel embarrassed or ashamed to ask for food assistance. I never directly ask them to speak with me or allow me to photograph them. Instead, I rely on Sarah, a compassionate person who always approaches her pantry visitors with sensitivity and respect, ensuring they are not made to feel uncomfortable.

This caution ensures that no one feels pressured or ashamed.

Recently, some patrons have also approached Sarah, expressing willingness to speak with me and be photographed. Their willingness to share their stories and their appreciation for the work we are doing is a testament to our impact on the pantry.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to meet with one of the patrons, Lloyd P.

He is a former handyman who, following the tragic death of his daughter some years ago, has been unable to work.

Lloyd, in his 60s, lives alone in an apartment with several cats, a testament to his love for these animals. When we met, he was visibly emotional, having recently lost his favorite and beloved orange cat, Frankie.

He can’t mention Frankie’s name without bursting into tears, a poignant reminder of the emotional toll of his circumstances and the role animals play.

 

He considers five to ten cats in the neighborhood his responsibility and feeds them. One or two of the neighbors have protested, fearing the cats might attract bears. Lloyd says this is nonsense, but I don’t want to get too deeply into that.

Floyd would like to have a car. I told him he had a license, but I could not help with a vehicle. He understood.

When he needs to go out for any reason, he rides a bike to the pantry.

Sarah suggested I might help by getting him a new basket to put on his bicycle, which is operative but pretty banged up. He said he would greatly appreciate some moist and dry cat food and that a new basket for his bike would be fantastic.

I bought him one today (above). It’s coming to the farm in a few days, and I will bring it to him.

I also went shopping and got him some moist food and cat kibble. I told him I couldn’t permanently support food for his cats—there are too many of them, and that would be too expensive. And honestly, I didn’t want to go there permanently. Food is the issue for me.

And the issue of his cats may need to be something he deals with a professional.

He said that was great; he could do the re-homing of cats himself, but the basket would really help. He would put additional food from the pantry when he went there. He has spoken with the animal care agencies in the county and state. This kind of work requires clear and open – and firm – boundaries. It can go awry easily and instantly.

I liked Lloyd and felt at ease with him. He is soft-spoken and appreciative. The death of his daughter devastated him. He has been on disability ever since, and he has turned to cats for emotional support. He feels strongly about them, and when I asked if he wanted help finding homes for these cats, he said he wouldn’t work with rescue groups; he didn’t like the ones he has dealt with and would find homes for the cats himself.

It is valuable to me to talk to Lloyd, get to know him, and learn how some people just fall into need and need help getting food. Some are obvious—low income, high prices—but others, like Lloyd, are much more complicated. He does get some government support and leads a simple, even spare life.

I will not be fundraising to support Lloyd; I’ve decided to take this responsibility myself. I will use my own money if needed, and  I’ll pay for the basket.

Lloyd needs more help. He is fiercely independent. I asked if he needed a new bike, and he said he did not, but looking at his bike, I suspect he just might.”I have no one to support me,” he said, “sometimes I need a little support.”

Okay, I said, sometimes I can offer that.

I sensed he would accept help for some of his minor needs. I want to deal with that myself. If I need help, I will ask for it, but this is one of those cases where the idea of small acts of great kindness applies.

I said he would agree to everything I write about him and every photo I take of him. He said he had no problem with pictures.

He said he doesn’t like to ask for things.

Caring for cats is the focal point of Lloyd’s life; I can’t help him with that either, nor should I. I can get him some cat food occasionally and comfort him when one dies, which happens often.  He feels strongly about caring for his cats and wants to do it alone.

I had the sense he didn’t want any of them to leave. Llyod has a son who lives several states away, and he said it is a complicated relationship. I bet. I want to help him with his food needs and some of the small things in life he might like. We agreed on our boundaries.

I want to share what I am learning from him as part of my own Compassion Revolution. We got along very well our first time together. Sarah says a family with nine children might want to speak with me. I’m up for that.