by J.D. Meyer

Let’s pray that the Salvation Army stays open, and the economy continues to improve.

We’ve all seen the sad story in Thursday’s Tyler Paper about the impending closing of the East Texas Rescue Mission. Rather than review it, I’d like to share my good memories of ETRM. I never lived there; most of my visits were for lunch. Some of my friends and associates lived there at times; most I’d met before they moved to the Mission. Lots of folks called me, “Hot Sauce Man,” since I generally brought a bottle of something spicy with me.

Lunches were massive and seconds were available if you had that gargantuan of an appetite. They often had a theme of rice, ground meat, and beans with a couple of side dishes. But there was always a variety of good-tasting food. Today it was Spanish rice with meatballs, macaroni and cheese, and corn. The Olive Garden regularly donated a fine complicated soup. There was a monthly pizza night. Importantly, there were always guest servers from some church, school, or other group. You really felt a spirit of comradeship and organization. I brought a few canned goods to the Mission at times. Why leave something popular in my pantry that I find boring?

Two lunches really stand out: Christmas lunch and when the Ride Well Bike Tour hosted in July. Christmas lunch featured turkey and all the trimmings, together with tables covered with slices of pie. The donations of food were awesome, and you could sense that the Mission had become the in-charity for many in the community. I saw Reverend Reginald Garrett at Christmas lunch. Mayor Barbara Bass was one of the guest servers that day. A few nights later, Mayor Bass was in attendance at the Kwanzaa Cooperative Economics program when I delivered the second address. The Ride Well Bike Tour is a group of cyclists that pedal from California to Baltimore or Washington, DC to raise money for clean water for Africa. I ate with a young couple that told me about their organization. Later I checked their website and wrote an article about the lunch for www.associatedcontent.com

Residents often testified about their progress at mealtime. One young man talked about his studies for a GED. Meanwhile, he kept a custodian job at a major downtown church. Since I’ve taught grammar and composition for over ten years, together with writing a textbook, I rewarded his efforts by giving him some spare handouts. Later I let him borrow one of my textbooks indefinitely. This turned out to give me a blessing when somebody retaliated against a shade tree mechanic by stealing the contents of his car, including my revised textbook. Thus, by having a copy of my prized achievement at the Mission, I was able to cope with theft in the ‘hood. There were times that I rushed into the lobby with my albuterol nebulizer, plugged it in, and was able to breathe again.

Another time after breakfast, a bewildered young man showed up at the Mission, stating that he’d just been released from jail without his ID and told to report to the parole office in 24 hours. He was penniless and new to Tyler. Promptly my two friends that day gave me some gas money so I could take him to the parole office—far away off the SW Loop. On the way, I got a map of Tyler for him at the Economic Development building on Line and Broadway, so he’d start learning his new city. Another day, I got him to the Social Security Office and Drivers’ License place for his records. He got a job at a fast food place immediately and has risen to assistant manager. He had a Christian conversion experience while incarcerated. Later he let me have some cash during some hard times.

My most distinguished buddy to stay at the Mission had just won a grant to study for an oil field engineering related certificate. He has about three or three and a half years toward a chemical engineering degree. He tried to be an entrepreneur. For a while, he bid for home demolition jobs—usually underbid by larger companies that could recycle materials like bricks. More often he trimmed trees. Then his beloved aunt whom he took care of went to the nursing home and later passed away. He bounced to a couple of places before landing in the Mission and regaining his focus. He’s already moved.

So as you can see, my experience of the Mission tells something the newspaper obituary can reveal but not explain. I attended three of their mandatory religious programs if you ate dinner, thoroughly enjoying two of them and visiting with the ministers after the programs. I donated one of my late dad’s oil paintings to the Mission: a small painting of a basket of fruit that hangs above the coffee machine near the serving area. I already left a message on Reverend Tony Christian’s cell phone that he could have that painting. Reverend Christian had relatively recently became a regular worker there when he isn’t an youth minister at North Star Missionary Baptist or cleaning carpets. They let me have a book entitled, Writing Well, by Donald Hall, who taught English at the University of Michigan. This fabulous book inspired a new chapter section on Purpose and Audience for my textbook’s eighth edition. Some thirty years after writing this book, Dr. Hall would become the U S Poet Laureate.

Still the Mission was no Shangri-la because of tension from some in the community. Smoking residents had to endure the near daily warning at mealtime to sit perpendicular to the street when they went outside to smoke, let alone not to cross the street. That way it wouldn’t appear that the homeless males were staring at jailbait high school girls some seventy-five yards away. It became something of a joke. I bet the residents would have been frightened if a precocious girl approached them. There was a fear of contact, but I never heard of it happening. Whatever happened to the logic behind that old Bobby Womack song, “Nobody Wants You When You’re Down and Out”? One thing is certain; no Mission resident could get a job at the charter high school.

Anyway, I’ve rambled long enough. Let’s hope that the Mission residents find somewhere good to go. I’ve seen more than a few graduate from the Mission to real jobs and homes. This story could have been longer. Let’s pray that the Salvation Army stays open, and the economy continues to improve.