Giving Back While Getting Even More

On Tuesday, while others got in their cars and drove to their offices to put in a regular day of work, I got in my car and spent the morning giving back.

In celebration of Patch's 100th site launch Tuesday, and as part of the company's Give 5 day, I spent several hours volunteering at the Bridgewater warehouse on Easy Street for the Food Bank Network of Somerset County.

For three hours, I unloaded bags of donated food, and sorted the items into individually labeled bins—pastas, canned fruits, tomatoes, vegetables, cereal and so many others.

It was hot in the warehouse, the bags were heavy, the cans were somewhat dirty—and yet, it was one of the most rewarding three hours I have spent in a while.

And I think Marie Scannell, executive director of the food bank network, can best sum up the reason why I wouldn't trade the time I spent.

"We know that everything we do here is ultimately helping a person or family," she said. "Everything you do gets things ready for a family to get that food."

I have read stories, and written stories, about the good work done by the food bank, but have never before had the opportunity to see it all happen first hand. There is so much going on at the warehouse, with very few volunteers, and yet the work gets done as the network helps about 750 families in total throughout the year.

But Scannell only has 14 steady volunteers who come to the warehouse on a regular basis to sort food, bag it and prepare it to be given to those in need.

"They take on whatever is happening, whatever the day's tasks are," she said. "Some just sort, some just bag. But people like what they do here."

From there, Scannell said, she depends on random volunteers, like myself, who pitch in whenever possible.

I was pleased that I was able to assist just after the county had completed its Curbing Hunger program, during which residents donated about 46,000 pounds of food to the bank. Scannell said the food had begun to pile up, and I was able to make a dent in the mountains of bags that still needed to be sorted.

Once the food is distributed into bags, Scannell said, it is brought to one of three pantries in the county—in Somerville, Bound Brook and North Plainfield—where it is distributed to families every Saturday.

Scannell said that about 15 people—out of 160 signed up—throughout the county volunteer each week to distribute the bags. Usually, she said, a church or synagogue will sign up to take care of one of the pantries for an entire month.

"They then take care of the pantry one month at a time," she said. "There is a coordinator at each religious organization, and it is a lot of work."

And those people wanting to receive the donations are required to fill out a simple application with questions about income, employment, household and any extraordinary expenses. It is rare, Scannell said, that the network turns anyone down.

"But [most] of the food is donated, and I feel responsible to justify where it goes," she said.

The most striking thing to me about the food bank is the fact that it is so involved in a county that many consider to be fairly affluent. I was surprised to hear how many families the network works with, and to see how much food had been donated.

After working for three hours, there were still three large bins of bags needing to be sorted.

But Scannell said that it took some time to convince the rest of the county's residents that this network was needed.

"It took a long time to get our message out to the county because it is so affluent," she said. "People have had trouble believing there are hunger pockets here."

Scannell said it is about the image people conjure when they think of someone going hungry.

"People have a picture in their minds about what a family in need looks like," she said. "They picture someone they see on television, or a child with skinny arms. But it can happen to any of us at any time."

And once people realized that, Scannell said, the donations began to pour in.

"We are in a most generous area," she said. "You just let people know about the problem, and they will take care of it."

Scannell said she gets calls from Rotary clubs, Chambers of Commerce, different schools and religious organizations, all of which want to know how they can help and where they can bring donations.

"We hope people will not need us, but we help on a need basis," she said.

But the food bank does not only work in food. While I sat with Scannell in her office, as she took call after call from people requesting assistance, she received a call from one person discussing possible help with a prescription plan.

Scannell said this is an additional service the food bank offers.

Several years ago, Scannell said, she received a visit from a local man who handed her a check for $50,000 and told her to use it for whatever was needed for the food bank network. After composing herself from the receipt of such a large check, she said, she met with the network's board and began discussing the idea of a prescription plan.

"You can have medical care without health coverage, and you can go to the hospital for charity care," she said. "But then you might get a prescription for $150."

Scannell said she learned that Costco pharmaceuticals is government-funded and has good prices for those in need.

"So we worked the plan out with them, and set this up for those without prescription coverage," she said. "We buy the prescription for the first month with the assumption that the person can get help for the next month."

The network started, Scannell said, with that additional $50,000, and every year, the food bank receives a grant from the county's Human Services to continue the prescription program.

Aside from this, the network collects clothes for adults and children, works with 23 county dentists for pro bono pediatric dental care and has an agreement with Walmart Vision Center for an eyeglass program.

But the most important thing, Scannell said, is the generosity of the people who help, and that is normally not lacking. And as I stared out at the mounds of food piled high in the warehouse, I wondered if it is possible that not even the economic recession could stop residents from helping where they could.

Unfortunately, Scannell said, there was some drop-off when people began to suffer from job losses, house foreclosures and other such issues.

"When stuff started to go sour, the donations started to slow down," she said, "There was a lack of food coming in because people had to tighten up."

But around the 2009 holiday season, Scannell said, something changed—and she said she believes the issues people were facing in the economy began to hit closer to home.

"People would begin to say they saw their brother-in-law lose a job, or a neighbor lose a job," she said. "It hit home, and [we realized that] those of us who can donate should."

"Then the last holiday season was incredible," she added. "The place was loaded to the guild. People started to rally."

And they continue to do so today, with some people traveling to Costco specifically to purchase food that they can donate, and working with local organizations to put donations together.

For Scannell, it is amazing to be able to help people on a daily basis.

"One of the reasons I get up every day is because I can see that we're making a difference," she said. "We create relationships, and follow these people through everything. They are almost like family."

When I left the warehouse in the early afternoon, I felt a pride swell inside that, for a few hours, I could be a part of this operation to help those in need. They say charity gives you that warm glow, and, as clichéd as that line can be, I was proud that I had given my time.

I said as I left the warehouse that I was looking forward to returning, possibly during the holiday season when things are busier, more food is coming in and people are opening their hearts and wallets to assist those in need.

And I encourage all Bridgewater residents to try and find some time to help as well—there may be sore muscles after a day of heavy lifting, but it's worth the pain to give a little of yourself.