Guest Comment | Thanksgiving dinner volunteer couldn’t find housing for elderly woman – Santa Cruz Sentinel

By Sheila Carrillo

Last week, I joined in the preparations for a full gourmet Thanksgiving meal at the free annual downtown festival at Vet’s Hall, which was beautifully covered by Sentinel reporter Jessica York. As one of dozens of volunteers, I parked my car in the adjacent bank parking lot and made my way to the hall’s side entrance. To my surprise, I came across an outdoor kitchen run by legendary chef Joseph Schultz, who was darting frantically between a steaming cauldron of boiling red wine. skinned potatoes and a huge wok of vegetables stirred with an oar-like paddle.

Inside, room-long rows of tables were decorated with autumnal colors, while a selection of tempting desserts – donated by the best of our outstanding bakeries – were portioned onto real plates. I ended up at the front door and was tasked with wrapping eating utensils in paper napkins and wrapping each bundle of cutlery with ribbon.

With clumsy fingers and a lack of patience, I stood and stretched my legs as the first guests entered and approached a full Thanksgiving meal served by warming trays full of turkey roasted by Beckman’s Bakery and a slew of delicious sides, which Joe had prepared in his van and in the parking lot – large kitchen. As I paced back and forth, I heard a woman behind me – the first to enter the door – mutter that she didn’t know if she could help herself to something to eat. I turned to see a small, elderly figure leaning on a walker and offered to fill a plate for her.

After serving her with her plate, I grabbed water and chocolate milk from the drinks table nearby. As I turned to bring her drinks, my heart sank. She sat crying quietly, her head bent over her plate, the food untouched. I leaned forward and heard her whisper, “I haven’t eaten in three days. I’m so grateful for the food.”

I put my hand on her bony back and stroked her gently to calm her down. Recalling an experience with someone who hadn’t eaten for days, I asked the woman who sat staring at her overflowing plate to eat very slowly.

Crying quietly, she told me that she had slept in her car, that she had been in the hospital in Merced, and that the door to her apartment in Grandview was locked when she returned to Santa Cruz. Worried, my mind began searching for solutions and I assured her that I would find help for her. A woman sitting across from her put her hands together in prayer and thanks as I ran up to the organizers, told them her situation and asked if there was anyone involved in social services who could help her.

Shocked that I hadn’t found anything helpful, I ran back to tell her not to leave while I sought help. I sat on a bench in a quieter corner of the lobby and made phone calls, first to the nearby Salvation Army and the housing authority, and then to every shelter phone number I could find. All I got were recorded messages telling me to leave my name and number to set up waiting lists for housing and safe parking. Since I hadn’t written down her phone number, I awkwardly left mine. I never reached a live person, even though a message said my call would be returned within two hours. When I rushed back to the table, she was gone.

Others at the table said she felt cold and there were no blankets around. She went to warm up and took her foil-wrapped plate with her. The woman who had shown me gratitude said she feared for the older woman’s life – that the cold could be a sign that she was dying. I berated myself for not writing down her name and phone number, and for not even remembering the name she had given me when I introduced her, and alerted the organizers to keep an eye out for her in case she returned. Reluctantly, I went to dinner with family friends.

As I left Vet’s Hall, a tall man in a suit said to me – as he did to everyone else leaving, “Have you had your Thanksgiving meal yet?” and then reached out to give me a dollar bill. “Really?” I thought.

PS: Five days later I received a reply to my urgent messages regarding accommodation. I learned that the shelter’s phone service is only available Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Sheila Carrillo is a community activist and author, an octogenarian who has lived in Santa Cruz County for 50 years.