I looked up at the sky and realized that while I was standing in the parking lot, handing out slices of pizza, I was also enjoying what the television/movie/photographic world calls the “Golden Hour” because of the amazing light that suffuses the sky.
I’d been coming out to this location for about a year, sometimes with the Canteen (think food truck) and sometimes with a short-bus that we all make fun of, but was big enough to haul some tables, chairs, and hot food. In any event, I was there, in the midst of a low-cost housing project in the rural town of Immokalee, Florida. The back of my Telluride was full of pizza I’d just picked up.
When people talk about SW Florida, they typically think of Fort Myers, Naples, perhaps even Everglades City. They almost never think of the little farm towns like Felda, Labelle, and Immokalee. There’s lots of them, mostly along State Highway 29 that runs up the center of the state.
Naples, the glitziest of them, is where I live. A ton of millionaires, many CEO types from the Fortune 100, and generally way more expensive circles than I run in if given a choice. Technically in any event. I live 10 miles from Immokalee and 33 miles from Naples itself. Consequently, my time is spent in Immokalee when I want a great Mexican meal, need cash from the credit union, to hit the farmers market, or to serve the poor.
I’ve been volunteering with The Salvation Army in Naples for over 4 years, essentially since my first Christmas in Florida. In that time I’ve deployed to Hurricane Helene in the Big Bend region, went out with the trucks during Hurricane Ian, served First Responders at a disaster drill or two, served breakfast to the homeless at a census in Naples, and been Santa. Along the way I’ve also done some sammich making and other assorted tasks as needed.
As a volunteer I’ve trained on a number of subjects and had my qualification card signed off so that I’m trusted with vehicles and a spatula. It’s a long list, but when they need me I am usually allowed to operate on my own. I spent the time, gasoline, and hotel stays to travel around Florida to get the training needed. Just like the military I served in 30 some years ago.
Now, back to Immokalee. It’s a farm town, and the majority of the people who live there are Hispanic. I’m not sure if English is the primary language or if Spanish is more common, but I do okay in English and can usually get along for this kind of work in Spanish. I sound like an imbecile in both languages if you want to be honest, but a helpful one!
Most of you know I’m a very conservative Christian, and you probably wonder why I’d be serving pizza to a community that is sometimes illegally here. Easy answer: I’m there to serve Jesus, do as I’m commanded to/for the least of my brothers, and I try to keep it politics free. Mind you, if ICE swept in and started asking for identification, I’d offer them pizza, salad, and a bottle of water as well. Everyone is my brother when I put on the red shirt. It’s not a contradiction to me to render unto Cesar what is his. I’m okay with it.
But, back to the story. I’ve been going out there long enough now that I recognize some of the people as regulars. The kids and the old guy in the red pickup truck, the lawncare guy and his crew, and the guy with his 2 year old. I feed them all, pray for them all, and love them all.
So, as you might guess, as the sun sets on those Wednesdays when I serve a meal to the community, I love the setting of the sun, the warmth of my friendships with my Captains, Sarah my fellow volunteer, Sharon, David, and all the others who are by my side.
You see, it is truly the Golden Hour when you stand in the light of God.
Now, go volunteer with an organization like The Salvation Army. Don’t waste your life standing on a corner with a sign, or blowing a whistle. Do something productive, nonviolent, and within the law for your fellow humans. All of them.
Thank you.
