My Neighbor Reported My 79-Year-Old Father’s Garden. When the Inspector Returned at Six A.M., He Discovered Who the Harvest Was Really For
“That sounds fair.”
That afternoon we sat at the kitchen table with a yellow legal pad and counted.
We did not have a perfect accounting of pounds, because no one had ever weighed the carrots before giving them away.
We could identify the pickup days, the number of boxes, and the deliveries to Saint Jude’s food pantry.
I called the pantry director, a woman named Louise Mercer, who remembered Mom bringing in produce even during the years the pantry operated from a rented church basement.
“She never stayed for photographs,” Louise told me.
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