Helping
Hand
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What it's like
in an
afternoon at
Detroit's
kosher food
bank.
ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM
ASSISTANT EDITOR
A volunteer fills the shelves at Yad Ezra, which is serving 646 families each
month.
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44
he hungry come
here.
Yad Ezra has
been open for about
an hour, and already
its clients include a
collection of souls as
diverse as travelers
on a New York sub-
way.
A thin young man
and his red-headed
girlfriend smell heav-
ily of cigarette smoke. Their
coats are threadbare and
their boots are worn. This is
their first time at Yad Ezra.
An older Orthodox couple
enter hesitantly; then the
wife stays at the back. She
says she doesn't feel well to-
day, so it's her husband who
fills the grocery cart with
peas, a chicken, cereal. They
have six small children at
home.
A husband and wife, re-
cent immigrants from Mos-
cow, come with their tall,
leggy daughter whose eyes
are dark and flashing. The
daughter serves as transla-
tor. Her parents, she says, do
not have jobs.
One of the last visitors this
afternoon: an elderly woman
with thick, plastic glasses.
She wears a black hat and a
coat with ripped patches at
the elbow. She looks familiar
— someone's grandmother,
who years ago sang lullabies
to her daughter?
These days, Yad Ezra, the
kosher food bank, is serving
646 families a month —
which means about $10,000
in food purchases. Some-
times, workers are out of spe-
cialty items, but so far there
has always been enough
food. "God forbid we run out"
Yad Ezra Director Jeanette
Eizelman says.
The building is in Oak
Park, the last stop on a dead-
end street. Inside, black fans
whirl overhead. On the right:
a walk-in freezer donated
anonymously.
Straight ahead is the food,
about 98 percent of which is
purchased. There are cans of
peas, boxes of macaroni, jars
of peanut butter. A freezer
with a loud hum holds chick-
ens, one to a family.
The rest of the food, filling
a few shelves on the far right,
was donated by schools and
synagogues and comprises a
number of specialty items
like baby formula and food
for diabetics. Goods that do
not have to be cooked might
be here, too; this is saved for
families who do not have an
oven.
When clients, as they are
always called, enter the food
bank, their first step is a
brief screening. Forms list
their names, address, how
long unemployed, number of
dependents.
The process is complete,
but not humiliating. Yad
Ezra workers are sensitive
both to clients and to those
who want to be sure dona-
tions really go to the needy.
So most Soviet immigrants
come with a letter from Re-
settlement Service, while
Americans already have
qualified for food stamps.
Clients' second stop is the
food pantry, where volun-
teers walk down the aisle
with them, helping them se-
lect food. "Would you like ce-
real?" they ask, loading
shopping carts along the
way. "What about fruit?
Would you prefer pineapples,
pears or cherries?"
This day, toilet paper is
available. But not coffee. "I
sure wish we had some cof-
fee to give," one volunteer
says.
Each family receives a
monthly allotment that is
meant to supplement, not
completely sustain (most
families visiting Yad Ezra
also receive food stamps).
But if anyone runs out of
food, he is welcomed back —
no questions asked.
This month's selection at
Yad Ezra includes two cans
of tuna or sardines, one box
each of hot and cold cereal, a
package of noodles, one
canned fruit, a box of dried
milk, one chicken, among
others.
Clients are allowed to re-
ject foodstuffs as well, but
most need everything.
"Would you like oatmeal?"
a volunteer asks the red-
headed visitor.
"Definitely," she says.
"What about apple juice.
Do you need that?"
"Oh, yes," she says.