The Kitchen
Tony Gwynn is a hero here. He’s a San Diego son whose life was spent in service of baseball and the city. A charitable guy with a million-dollar smile, squat build, chubby cheeks and six batting titles in his umpteen odd years in the majors. All of which were spent in San Diego.
In preparation for his retirement three years ago, Tony made the circuit collecting honorary titles as San Diego’s favorite citizen attending junkets, photo ops, private dinners and charitable balls. It was at one of those charity events that I met Tony, shook his hand and felt the winning grip of success. Tony Gwynn is a hero but he’s also a man; mortal in his desires if not his accomplishments.
The evening was a black tie gala at an Indian casino East of San Diego. The Viejas Band of Kumeyaay Indians had assembled the city’s best for a night of honors. The local elite were in attendance as the tribe donated $10,000 to 10 different charities .. The Mayor, the School District Superintendent, the CEO of QUALCOMM, the Chief of Police made their rounds in the time-honored civic showcase; the not wholly altruistic tradition of glad-handing our resident brain trust. We had all assembled to honor the hard-nosed dedication of the many benefactors, trustees, boards and volunteers for the non-profits on display, but everyone wanted to shake the hand of Mr. San Diego.
The evening began with prayer and the national anthem. Toward the middle of the program I was called to the stage to accept an award on behalf of Mama’s Kitchen. I gave a short unrehearsed speech about the inherent buzz one gets in lending a helping hand. There were more awards and prepared speeches. There was an impromptu singing of the “God Bless America” and the pending whiff of self-congratulatory pomp. That’s when Tony Gwynn came to the stage, accepting a lifetime achievement award. No cash, just a plaque, and then his speech. I’ll never forget it.
“I can accept this award with pleasure. However none of us should go home tonight thinking that I’m a hero. We all know who the heroes are here. They’re the good people of San Diego who volunteer their time in the service of others. They’re the true heroes.”
He went on to thank the Viejas for their charity and to thank us for honoring him. As I looked around, I not only had formed a bond to the city that night, but I had suddenly become inseparable -- for the first time in my life -- from a building and its contents. That building is in the basement of a Church under the roar of passing planes; a warehouse with stacks of food; a row of offices; a kitchen abuzz with volunteerism. Mama’s Kitchen: a place that sustains the dignity and health of people living with AIDS with three home-delivered meals a day.
What follows are photos from the Kitchen. They detail the employees, volunteers and clients who are the true everyday heroes. In them the volunteers smile with million-dollar hearts. The employees shake hands with the grip of a good job done. And every day comes and goes with the fullness of an empty hand.
