I popped up and jogged to first. I looked over, and Moose had blocked the dugout entrance so our team was still inside it. Eastside had started to clear their bench, expecting a fight. They stood in stunned silence because it was over so fast. Most times, there would have been a lot of wrestling and holding onto each other.
Coach Herndon was the first base coach.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
All the umpires huddled up to figure out what to do while the Eastside training staff worked on their two players. I was happy when they kicked both the catcher and pitcher out of the game. The umpire warned me, and both coaches, that if anything happened in retaliation, we would also be kicked out. I’d never seen them single out a player like that before, but I wasn’t arguing because I did hit the kid.
The whole incident threw Eastside off their game. Their new pitcher and catcher were not in sync. There were two passed balls in their next three pitches. Nick had scored, and I was now on third. Bryan walked, so we had runners at first and third. Jim came up and hit a double that cleared the bases to make it 4–0. That ended up being the final score.
◊◊◊
On my way home, I received a call from Caryn.
“Congratulations, I heard you won.”
“Thanks. What’s up?” I asked.
“I was talking to Mr. Baum, the owner of the Quickie Mart. He told me he has a handful of customers who come in and ask for food. Staples like bread, peanut butter, and milk for their kids.”
“You can’t be serious. There’s a food bank and government assistance for folks like this. Why aren’t they signed up?” I asked.
“I did a little digging. Some didn’t know what was available to them. Some aren’t here legally and were afraid to ask for help. Others don’t have transportation to go to the food bank or to sign up for the services. I also discovered something else.”
I had images of several terrible scenarios but tamped those images down.
“Tell me.”
“Do you know about the school lunch program for low-income children?” she asked.
“I guess I realized there was one, but none of the details,” I admitted.
“The normal price of a school lunch is three dollars. Sixteen percent of the students in the school system qualify for reduced-price lunches at just fifty cents per meal. Three percent qualify for free meals. Even with the reduced prices, not all the kids can afford lunches. The schools make it a point to feed them all. I’m told that 175 students had lunch debts of over ten dollars. I suggest you could make an anonymous donation to pay off their debt,” Caryn suggested.
“You’re always telling me we need more write-offs,” I said.
“You don’t even want to know how much it is? I was shocked.”
“Sure, how much?”
“It’s over eight thousand dollars.”
“What about the people who need food and are coming to the Quickie Mart?” I asked.
“I talked to Mr. Orange at the Homeless Coalition, since he has the same issues. If they need a roof over their heads, they also need to eat,” she explained. “The county has a department, Health and Family Services, which helps people in need. He says they have a list of organizations and governmental services, like SNAP—the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program—which can help. He said the biggest problem is that once school’s out, the kids getting lunches at school may go without food over the summer.”
“It absolutely astonishes me that there are kids in our area who might be going to sleep hungry each night.”
“Once they get into school, they can get some help. It’s the preschool children that need the most assistance. The first three years of life are important for establishing a good foundation; that has implications for a child’s future physical and mental health, academic achievement, and economic productivity. The woman at the county said they have a special program called WIC, which stands for Women, Infants, and Children, that helps. The problem is getting the word out.”
Fritz pulled into my driveway.
“Hey, I just got home. Let me talk to my parents and see if they have any ideas. Put this on our agenda for our Sunday meeting.”
“Do you want me to go ahead and make the donation to the school?” she asked.
“Let’s hold off until Sunday.”
“You’re right, it isn’t urgent. But I will feel better knowing I’m spending your money on something good.”
Fritz opened my door to let me out of the car. Sometimes having him do that irritated me, but he’d explained it was part of the security protocol. Even in my own driveway, he wanted to make sure the gate was closed, and no one was threatening me. I said goodbye to Caryn and got out.
“Oh, wow! They started the fence,” I noticed.
I didn’t think Fritz was impressed with my powers of observation. My excuse was I’d been talking on the phone.
