Throughout the fall semester I did community service at a thrift shop and soup kitchen in Lawrence. There I experienced things I have never encountered before in my life. These experiences have taught me a lot, and have truly made me look at America’s underprivileged, in a new light. The hours I put in at the food pantry had a greater affect on me than the thrift shop. On October 16, 1999 another classmate and I were brought to the food pantry in the middle of a poor section of Lawrence. We were brought inside and I was instructed to serve salad, bread, and pickles. My heart really went out to the unfortunate people when they started coming up to me. I felt extremely bad for them. There were people of all ages. Parents with their children, wearing dirt stained clothing filled with holes that did not even fit them. A good amount of the people I had to deal with were Hispanic and very few of them were able to speak English. It was very difficult to communicate with them. The little faces of the innocent children made me really feel for them. I knew these children had insecure families and were looked at as though they were fortunate to be getting food. These young kids seemed to be very appreciative that they were able to get some food in their starving bellies. There was one incident that will always stick with me. There was a mother with her two sons and daughter that had gotten in line to get their food. The two boys must have been around six years old and eleven years old. The girl was probably about nine years of age. The mother had gone first and got all her food and sat down. Then the little girl and her older brother went. The little six-year-old had dirt stains and tares all over his gray sweat pants. His innocent face said nothing to me. He stood there staring at me in the eye with a sad look. I asked him if he wanted to have some salad and he shook his head from side to side implicating no. Then ...
