My wife and I accepted an invitation to a Tulsa food bank the other day.
The place was massive.
Aisles were as wide as highways and pallets were stacked to the ceiling. We shivered in a giant refrigerator and peeked into an even bigger freezer.
We stood in a spotless kitchen, where the chef lectured us on the bank’s mantra: Nothing goes to waste.
Here, there’s no crying over spilled milk. If a truckload of peaches overturns on the Turner Turnpike, they may be making cobbler until 4 in the morning at the food bank.
Consumables in, meals out.
The facility and people were impressive. But the stories made us wince.
About 17 percent of the population in Oklahoma lives below the poverty level.
Hell, I get testy when I can’t eat lunch at exactly 11:30 a.m. every day. Imagine living out of a trash can, hand held out to strangers who would rather not look you in the face. Imagine children who would starve if it weren’t for a backpack program.
What is like for a senior to have to choose between food and arthritis medicine?
Hunger walks among us. We should have an appetite for caring.