By Kenneth M. Key
When I think of one of my fondest memories is of waking up to the smell of sweet potato pies baking in the oven.
My mother was a member of the Woodlawn Baptist Church. After the afternoon service everyone would hurry to the basement to enjoy the food that had been prepared by the women elders of the church, and of course Sister Key’s sweet potato pies.
I remember trying to read the small writing of the article: “Feast, radical hospitality in contemporary art, Sunday’s soup.
I gave much thought to the question of specific food and food events. How fried chicken, mac and cheese, greens, cornbread or turkey and dressing, cranberry sauce and candied yams made a different impression than sandwiches and bean salad and sweet tea.
I especially miss that experience now. How food works to connect people in meaningful ways, bridging divides. I also thought about how food can divide people and be inimical to community.
When I look back, I asked myself whether food is ultimately more of a community generator or a community killer?
Those church meals were much more than simply eating, and talking about the sermon the pastor gave. They allowed folks to network, create bonds and help each other along.
See those meals were always about service, community and taking it beyond the church basement. As I look back, I realize what was shared there became annual picnics to raise money for various causes, to help someone going through bad times, and simply just to keep community connected, to create extended conversation beyond the pulpit.
From that church basement came block clubs, bake sales, and weekly mentorships.
That table is no longer a part of the church, as everyone seems to have become more and more disconnected. Many now depend on fast food and the convenience of picking it up and going, and individual servings.
Every week I watch a program called “From the Farm to the Table.” It shows communities being brought together and allowing people to meet and share common interests, enjoying good food prepared by chefs who love what they do.
My mother got up early every Sunday morning to make pies for everyone at her church. It is something that is very much needed now.
From the back yard garden to the table would be a great start and certainly a generator as opposed to a community killer.
I learned so much listening to the elders, as they conversed while eating great food prepared by the elder women of the church, and Moms’ sweet potato pies. Got a few jobs while at the table in the basement, and met people that I am still connected to today.
Food has been the conduit for many things, from feeding the homeless, to the daily kitchen and food pantries.
Food is a powerful statement that simply says, “I care”. The table can be art, a canvas expressing love and thoughtfulness, from the daily kitchen and food pantries.
I miss helping Moms and partaking of her joy. I miss being able to experience serving others and partaking of great conversations, the joy of sharing a common plate with others.
Our elders are no longer preparing food for the table. They have grown afraid, won’t come out into the larger community. A great part of that has to do with those of us who are in prison, the criminal element — but in all fairness, as a human family we have given up on our elders. To be honest we should be preparing the table for them.
Someone has to bring that community plate back to the neighborhood, the home, the church, and watch change take place.
As I sit here in my prison cell, I often wish I could provide such a plate at the table, where men could enjoy a meal unrushed, knowing it was made with love, and discuss their common interests. What a different environment this would be.
How much more could men who have been labeled irredeemable accomplish sitting at a table with food that was grown and prepared with their own hands.
But all I can do is cling to the memories of those basement gatherings in the church, and the sense of fellowship it created.
Every year I propose a garden here at the prison and the idea of such a table citing its benefits.
My prayer is that my efforts will one day lead to a garden, a table and conversation of brotherhood and maybe change the paradigm we have adopted regarding prison and prisoners.
How much more we could accomplish sitting at the table of a meal cooked out of love, its intention only to bring resolution to all that troubles us. How powerful would that be, to let food be the conduit.
4 Comments
Unknown
September 27, 2018 at 1:44 pmWhat is the name of your son?
BlueJeans2004
September 26, 2018 at 1:53 pmThank you, Kenneth. I appreciate your writing on this subject. We still have potluck at our church and it's a wonderful way to make friends with strangers and to feed the elderly and less fortunate a good home cooked meal. We even have people that just pop in for the delicious food and it's a blessing to serve them. God bless you~
Joe
September 24, 2018 at 12:49 amYou are a good writer. I could almost taste that fried chicken, mac and cheese, and pies.
Keep writing; you're good.
I hope some day you can have a meal such as you described.
Unknown
September 21, 2018 at 1:23 amI know what you mean because I can also recall the delicious scent of my Mother cooking wonderful meals for the family. Thank you for sharing.