puzzles and metaphors
Buttondown finally added an alt text field inside the photos so I don't have to explain what each photo is. (But that's the hilarious puppy I'm taking care of this week.)
Over Christmas, in Florida, I started working on a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. For the first time in probably 30 years.
I have vivid memories of my tween/teenage self hunched over a table, way past my bedtime, working on puzzles. Often with my father and usually during the summer — we'd start a puzzle on a rainy day, and then we'd both be obsessed with the thing until it was done.
Once I got back from Florida, I ordered a puzzle off eBay, thinking "I'll wait for my sister-in-law to have a night off from the kids so she and I can have something fun to do while we have a glass of wine and catch up."
The unopened puzzle sat on my dining table for about a week, taunting me, before I caved. "I'll just do the edges," I thought to myself. Twenty-four hours later I'd finished the whole thing, horrified at my lack of restraint and relieved that it was done so I could get on with my life.
Over the last several months, I've spent a lot of time volunteering for various social service agencies and nonprofit organizations. The goal is twofold: 1) to spend my free time doing something that has some redeeming social value, and 2) to learn more about the organizations doing the work, with the hope that maybe one of them will be so incredible I will want to work there full-time.
This feels a lot like doing a puzzle, except the stakes are obviously way higher. I've identified a few different kinds of pieces: the groups who collect donated goods for migrants arriving from the U.S.-Mexico border, the groups who do the same for recently resettled refugee families from places like Afghanistan, the larger resettlement agencies who handle immigration paperwork, housing, and employment. But in terms of how they all fit together, like who does what, for which groups of people, not to mention where all the money comes from, and what about the American-born people who desperately need help? — it will be months before I even find all the edge pieces.
Lately I've been volunteering for Lutheran Social Services in a 50,000 square foot warehouse in a DC suburb. The space will eventually be a Resource Center, a place for their clients to come get products (e.g. clothes, housewares, diapers) and services (e.g. resume help, ESL classes).
A few days ago, they had me sorting donations and helping immigrant families find winter coats in their sizes. Today, someone asked me to assemble a printer stand.
Oh god. Not a good kind of puzzle.
The instructions, just like IKEA's, had no words. Just pictures. I told the staff person I would try, but I couldn't promise. Half an hour later, at Step 5, I was admiring my progress. Then I realized I'd made a big mistake at Step 2, and would need to take the whole thing apart and start over. I was sweating, covered in styrofoam debris, and feeling like I'd let everyone down.
"Don't worry about it," the LSS staff person told me. "Sister Roberts has a lot of experience with woodworking and she'll be back from lunch in a few minutes."
Now, if you heard that last sentence, what would you picture? A stocky, no-frills, no-bullshit nun in her 60s, right? Maybe in a grey skirt suit with black orthopedic shoes?
Nope!
Turns out Sister Roberts (not her real last name) is a jeans-wearing Mormon girl who looks like she's 18. All youth and smiles and innocence. Who took one look at the mess I'd made and undid it in 15 seconds. (Chloe Sevigny with the wheelbarrow in Big Love maybe wasn't a stretch?)
The religious angle is a whole 'nother set of puzzle pieces. The Lutherans and the Mormons seem to work well together, but where are the other religious groups?
But the puzzle metaphor only goes so far. My understanding of a nonprofit sector doesn't make any of the problems they're trying to solve disappear. Helping struggling people isn't a game. Whatever model I use to think about it, the whole point is to keep showing up, asking questions, and helping the helpers — with everything but furniture assembly.
Links
All There Is with Anderson Cooper, his podcast about grief, his mother, and so much more. I've listened to the first couple episodes and I'm into it. (Apple)
For SF people: Adopt a Drain. Basically you "adopt" a drain, occasionally unclog it so your street doesn't flood, and you can name the drain whatever you want! (SF Water)
I'm reading Don Letts' autobiography. If you know who he is, you won't be surprised to hear that much of it reads like a lecture on subcultures and music. There's nothing wrong with that, but I guess I was hoping for something more personal. (Bookshop)
DC area people: Heads-up re: canine flu. (Washingtonian)
Fun paper mâché art. (Instagram)
What to do about your noisy neighbors. (New Yorker)