"Kitchen Shift" Makeup SPAGAMMII!

 

            Spagammi is an philanthropy event hosted by Gamma Phi Beta every year. For an evening, the house chef, Bob, prepares pound and pounds of spaghetti, bread and salad for the hungry students at the University of Denver. Each girl in the sorority is asked to sell 5 tickets, this amounts up to a lot of guests. Each tickets if sold for $6 and guarantees the diner an unlimited amount of food for the evening. They can come at anytime between 5 and 8pm on the designated evening. The money that is raised form this event goes to the Make a Wish Foundation. This year the money was specifically directed at a  year old girl with Leukemia. It was her wish to go to Disneyworld in Florida and the money we raised will successfully send her there. As a member of the Gamma Phi Beta sorority, I was asked to help out with this event. When I first arrived at the Driscoll Ballroom, we put on our matching t-shirts identifying us as the people in charge of the event. My first assignment, being that it was peak dinnertime, was to serve the spaghetti. It was done banquet style, so the guests picked up a plate and moved down the table receiving their food. The spaghetti was actually very hard to place in a neat pile on the plates. I got many complaints on portion sizing; some people wanted more, some people less. After that I did the bread run, running back and forth from the makeshift kitchen area to the table delivering cut slices of bread. We all laughed saying we felt bad because the bread was stale and there were many breadcrumbs everywhere. After I did some more serving it was time to begin the cleanup. I helped to dismantle tables and stack chairs in the closet. It was a fun, bonding experience, listening to music and working together to get the job done. Throughout the event we also made sure our guests had everything they needed and were enjoying the food. A few lucky latecomers to the event also got restaurant service where we brought their food to the table. I learnt the effectiveness of teamwork in such a situation and the picking dietary needs of many.

            I can imagine that my experience in the food preparation side of the event was not dissimilar to the work at Project Angel Heart. I was serving food instead of preparing it, but it was still behind the scenes work of a community service experience. By the work I was doing I was not affecting a great quantity like at PAH, but rather one individual. However, in this instance, the quality of the gesture was astronomical. I was working to send one solitary girl to have the time of her life and make her one wish come true. She will forever remember that and although it won’t save her life it will give her something to look forward to in such dark times for her. In contrast to the volunteer experience I had through the delivery shift I did not feel like I was being of the same use during my work with Spagammi. I did feel that my experience was of the same significance. Getting off campus is definitely beneficial because of the new sites you are exposed to. You get to see the community of Denver and experience firsthand the people you are helping. The interaction with the clients of Project Angel Heart was so memorable and inspired me to continuing volunteering and helping out and even to encourage others to do the same. Staying on campus does not put you in a different situation to be able to reflect on what is going on and the difference you are making. Although both of my volunteering experiences had a significant impact on people of need, the meanings behind each were varied. 

Delivery Shift Reflection

Delivery Shift Reflection

As Sunday February 28th came around, I found myself nervous for my upcoming delivery shift for Project Angel Heart. I would be delivering meals to people in need with a classmate named Katie. As I waited for Katie to pick me up at my residential hall, there were millions of things running through my mind. I was somewhat apprehensive about delivering food to the ill over their doorstep.
We arrived at Project Angel Heart and received our list of deliveries and maps to locate our destinations. We received the decorated paper bags filled with a nutritious meal and loaded them into the trunk of the car. We then located our first destination on the map and realized we had no idea how to arrive there. We attempted a few different, logical ways to get us on the right track with no success. Our last resort was to phone Project Angel Heart and ask for directions. They were very friendly and set us on the right course. We found our areas of destination within a few minutes and it was smooth sailing from there. We began delivering food to doorsteps and receiving a glance into the lives of these individuals. It was clear that every individual we delivered to was extremely grateful and received the meal as if it was a gift of life. A certain delivery touched me in a different way, it touched my heart and brought forth some tears. As I stood at the door, bag in hand, an older woman with a cane answered the door. I handed her the bag with a smile and she looked at me with sadness in her eyes. She then informed me that the client the meals were intended for had passed away earlier that week. She then explained to me how grateful she was for this meal and how much PAH had contributed to the client’s health and happiness. I walked away from this house feeling thankful and touched to be a part of this organization. As we came across the last destination on our list, we realized we had no idea how to locate this home and also noticed it was not anywhere near our previous locations. We decided to call PAH one last time and ask for help on locating our last delivery. Once receiving directions, we established that this delivery was very out of our way. We were required to merge onto I-70 west and drive all the out to the suburbs of Aurora! Once arriving at the home, I retrieved the very last bag and walked to the door. I then rang the doorbell and waited for someone to come to the door. I was greeted by a young boy around the age of 13. As I handed him the food, a large smile came across his face and all of a sudden the distance we drove to arrive at this home did not matter anymore. I had brightened the day of someone else and that was the purpose of this delivery shift. To make a difference and show that you care.

Weekly Blog

Hey guys! Sorry about the late post, Kate and I spent some time trying to decide what we should write about. One thing that came to our minds pretty quickly was the fact that our class is almost finished. This quarter seems like it has gone by so fast, and we have kept busy with our numerous projects in this writing course. We personally found the service learning aspect of the course to be pretty enjoyable; doing the work with Project Angel Heart has felt like we really can make some sort of difference through our writing. Have you guys enjoyed the service learning? Was it what you expected, or has it surprised you in some way? Also, this class is supposed to be about rhetoric in the public sphere, and about making a difference through rhetoric and particularly writing. Do you feel like you have learned how to better do that? Do you think you could take the concepts we learned in our class and apply them to future endeavors? As our class is quickly coming to a close, we would just like to hear your thoughts and reflections on what we've experienced together.

MaryKate's DenveRhetor Writing Workshop Reflection

While I talked to Professor Bateman briefly about my rhetorical analysis, and had some ideas on what I needed to improve upon, the writing workshop was still extremely helpful. Merely reading my paper aloud to a group of people and the nervousness that brings helped me realize where I could refine my language and etc. Yet the most helpful element of the workshop was the feedback from other students. The suggestions were all very apt, especially the observation that I needed to set a context for the situation (i.e. what and where is Power Invasion Ministries) and the suggestion on how to expand the actual analysis part of my peice. I wrote about ethos and pathos yet I did not explictly explain how the speaker employed them, and to what effect they had. Also, I have to say the remarks reassuring me of my unbiasness were a big confidence boost. So thank you! I am sure the final draft of my DenveRhetor peice will be much more sensible and much more of an analysis due to all of the feed back I got. So thank you again and I'm off to revise. :)

Hello Everyone!
We apologize for the course blog being a little late this week...Zach and I decided a great topic for the blog this week would be focusing on the Shapiro article we read in class last week. It seemed to be a very interesting article and seemed to affect the class as a whole. We noticed not everyone got a chance to speak in class so we wanted to take the opportunity to open the blog up to everyone's personal stories this week. Zach shared his story of parents and college in class however I did not. My parents are the opposite of Zach's, however they are not extreme parents...just caring parents. My mother was always reminding me of college application deadlines, essays, and things I needed to do while preparing for college. Orientation week and letting go was a very hard concept for my parents, they offer their opinions on class schedules and major decisions, but will support me in whatever I choose to do. They continue to call everyday twice a day just to check up and say they miss me, which I appreciate because I miss them too. I would classify my parents in the middle of the spectrum and I am very grateful for that. They have been a huge part of my success and will continue to be. Where do you classify your parents? Is this comfortable for you? Please share your stories!! Have A Great Week Everyone!

Kitchen Shift at Project Angel Heart
The night started with a frazzled drive to the kitchen of Project Angel Heart. A car had been borrowed, and directions map quested in a hurry. We hit the road, only to sit in traffic and hit every red light possible. Despite the terrible luck driving, we made it to the kitchen only five minutes late. We walked into the front office and a wildly welcoming woman stood up from her desk. She greeted us with great eagerness and then took us right to where we were supposed to be. We made it to the kitchen and met our new boss, Summer. She handed us matching, flowery aprons, and some most unattractive hats to wear.
Dressed appropriately, and with clean hands, we were given our first task. Putting hamburger buns in plastic bags. One bun. In one bag. Thrilling. We bagged two monstrous boxes of buns, joking amongst ourselves and laughing. The last bun found a new home in a plastic bag, and we all let out a sigh of relief.
Summer came over to investigate our work. She approved, and then extended an invitation to “pita land” to us. “Pita land.” Didn’t sound that bad, but the way everybody rolled their eyes lead one to think of it as a rather hellish task. We were guided to the walk-in refrigerator. Four huge boxes of pita met our eyes. The sight of the endless pita to be bagged made it clear why so many eyes had rolled at the mention of “pita land.”
We wheeled the pita over to our distant table and began bagging. And we kept bagging. One pita. In one bag. For what seemed like an interminable amount of time. After what seemed like an eternity, we completed our task. We then moved on to chopping peppers. This new job contained the thrill of wielding a sharp object.
By the time that was done, it was time for us to clean up. We wiped down tables, cleaned out what appeared to be an overused coffee maker and detangled a mess of aprons fresh from the drier. It took about four people working diligently to deal with the mess of aprons that had emerged from the drier. It wasn’t until these final tasks that we started to talk with the other volunteers and employees. Simple, yet amusing conversation was had. Who knew that watching the show Scrubs was considered a guilty pleasure? We finished our tasks and wished everybody a good night. They in turn thanked us for helping out and doing the jobs that nobody else wanted, but that needed to get done. It wasn’t until that moment that I felt like I had helped. For the three hours that I bagged and chopped, it didn’t register that I was helping to feed people. I was preparing food for people with life threatening diseases. Food for people who needed it in order to remain alive. Despite the boredom that I had experienced periodically throughout the night, I felt like it was time well spent.

A Delivery Shift at Project Angel Heart
Saturday afternoon rolled around, and I found myself sitting on a bench at the side of the street. I was sitting, with my head leaned back, sunglasses covering my eyes, and quietly chatting with Marysia and MaryKate who sat on either side of me. It was a beautiful day full of sunshine and warm weather. We sat waiting for the ride that would take us to the Project Angel Heart headquarters where we would pick up food, receive a map, and then deliver said food to the destinations pointed out on the map.
Our ride came and we loaded into the vehicle. The drive to Project Angel Heart seemed long and relaxing to the point of sleep. But perhaps it was just the car ride and the warm sun that induced the desire to sleep. Eventually we arrived at our destination. We pulled up in front of what looked like a warehouse. The doors to the building were spilling out happy, smiling people, carrying colorful bags which must have been containing food.
We all got out of the car and walked inside the building. We entered and were quickly greeted by a friendly woman. She gave us a quick tour, had us sign some paper work, and then showed us our cart full of food and us a map. We loaded everything into the car and were on our way.
Upon pulling up to the first house, I could feel my heart rate accelerate a little bit. Marysia and I hopped out of the back seat and walked around to the trunk of the car. We gathered the food bags. We walked to the front door, and rang the door bell. A minute passed and there was no sound. We exchanged confused looks and then finally heard a sound. A voice from deep within the house shouted, “Coming!” Shortly after that the door opened and a woman stood before us. She was hooked up to an oxygen tank and looked a little frazzled. But she was still very nice to us. She told us where to place the food, thanked us for the food, and that was it. She thanked us, we wished her a good day, and then we left.
We were in her life for a matter of minutes. Maybe not even that. But I still felt like I had helped. Maybe this wasn’t warranted, but I couldn’t deny feeling good that I had brought this woman a supply of food that would last her the entire week.
The rest of the day continued in a similar manner. Two of us would go to every door. We worked out a cycle taking turns delivering food. Food was brought to older men, families where sons opened the door, and many others. Before we knew it, the shift was over, and all the food that had been residing in the trunk of the car now had new owners. As insubstantial as it seemed, and as short lived as the contact was, I truly felt like I had helped others. I had partaken in giving people food that would sustain them in more ways the one. Physically, the food gave them the nutrients their bodies need. Mentally, these clients knew that people were thinking of them. They had something to look forward to in their everyday lives. They weren’t alone. And all of this was accomplished by ringing a doorbell while bearing a bag of food.