Delivering a hot meal with a side of hope

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 06/05/2019 (2669 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

It’s Thursday evening and I’m waddling precariously though a parking lot outside Assiniboine Park Zoo.

Tucked under one arm are three poster-sized photos of my beloved mutts, while the other arm is toting a grocery bag containing a dozen signed copies of my book, Bite-Sized Doug.

I’m heading for the Qualico Family Centre nestled beside the park’s duck pond, because I’ve been invited to be the guest speaker at Meals on Wheels Winnipeg’s volunteer recognition dinner, which doubles as their annual general meeting (AGM).

In case you didn’t know, for more than 50 years this remarkable charity has been delivering nutritious meals to senior citizens, people with physical challenges and vulnerable residents throughout Winnipeg.

I am always thrilled to be invited to attend charity dinners, because 1) I love to talk about myself and 2) as a crusading newspaper columnist with steely blue eyes and naturally curly hair, there is nothing I appreciate more than a free meal.

I especially love attending events at the Qualico Centre, because it is literally a five-minute walk from my house. So, naturally, I drove there.

Typically, I do not do a lot of preparation for these speaking engagements because that would cut into the time I spend on the couch in our den staring up at our big-screen TV. In this case, however, I decided to approach a journalism colleague who, along with being extremely intelligent, is one of the funniest guys I know.

“I thought you might have a couple of jokes I could steal to use at the Meals on Wheels dinner tonight,” is what I told him.

Which is when my friend looked up from his desk, smiled a beatific smile and quietly explained that two of his older relatives had been clients of Meals on Wheels, and got a lot more out of the bargain than just hot food.

“They got something even more important than food, Doug,” he said, softly. “They also got human contact, a chance to chat and visit with the volunteer drivers.”

I know a moving story when I hear one, so, after stuffing my face with some excellent prime rib, I shared my Free Press buddy’s thoughtful words with the crowd, which included roughly 150 volunteers and executives from the organization.

Then I told them to give themselves a big round of applause, because they’d earned it. And the truth is, they really did. Like so many charities working in Winnipeg, the lifeblood of Meals on Wheels are its volunteers, the people who donate their time to pick up and deliver food for those who aren’t able to do it themselves.

“Most of our volunteers are 70ish and have been with us a long time,” the group’s executive director, Rhonda Gardner, explained to me. “We also have volunteers from other community organizations… The evening is officially our AGM, but really it is all about our volunteers — without them, I would be shuttering the doors of our organization.”

(It’s always looking for local businesses to join its Adopt-A-Route program, in which corporate teams deliver meals once per week. Find out more at mealswinnipeg.com.)

After warming up the crowd with compliments, I spent about half an hour trying to amuse them with stories about me being an idiot, such as the time I shattered my arm chasing my dogs when they bolted out the front door, and the time I tore my Achilles tendon while engaged in a competitive cake-decorating event.

The biggest laugh came when I told two versions of the same old joke. The first version, in a nutshell, goes like this: “A three-legged dog walks into Dodge City, goes into a saloon, looks up at the bartender and says: ‘I’m lookin’ for the man who shot my paw!’”

This got some polite laughter, but everyone roared when I shared the way my brother, a kind but humour-impaired accountant, tells the same joke, namely: “OK, there’s a dog… did I mention he has three legs… OK, so this dog goes into a bar… did I mention it’s in the Old West… OK, so this dog goes up to the bartender, looks him in the eye and says: ‘I’m lookin for the man who shot my dad.’”

So, yes, the point is that I was a regular laugh riot, but even I was deeply amused when the group’s treasurer, who happens to be an accountant, got up and chirped: “Hi, I’m Doug’s brother, and I’d like to tell you a story about a three-legged dog.”

But the point — and I do have one — is that I met some truly remarkable people. For starters, there was Bill Atkinson, a volunteer who only stopped driving a few years ago. This becomes even more remarkable when you learn Bill is now more than 100 years old.

On the other end of the spectrum, there were a couple of pint-sized volunteers, little guys who have been helping their grandparents deliver meals since they were roughly six years old.

“Hello, Doug,” one of the kids politely said to me after I’d finished talking to the crowd. “My grandpa said I should say hello to you.”

We had a great meal and some great conversation, and now that I think about it, that is really what Meals on Wheels is all about.

According to a copy of the annual report that all of us were given, last year its friendly volunteers delivered more than 175,000 meals to elderly and vulnerable clients throughout the city.

It wasn’t mentioned in the report, but it’s safe to say they delivered even more companionship, hope and joy.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca