The tables were ready.
In a small chapel in downtown San Diego, one was covered with a white cloth in preparation for Catholic Mass. Out the door and down the sidewalk, folding tables held dispensers of hot cocoa, to be handed out to the hundreds of people who filed toward a room filled with place settings.
It was all part of Father Joe’s Villages’ annual Thanksgiving meal Wednesday, one of a number of gatherings this week at shelters around the region. The Rescue Mission hosted a feast Saturday. Interfaith Community Services in North County is preparing another for Thursday.
At least 10,000 people are homeless countywide. Nearly 1,270 lost a place to stay — and by extension, a table — for the first time just in October, according to the Regional Task Force on Homelessness. It was the 31st straight month the crisis has grown.
At Father Joe’s chapel, Deacon Jim Vargas, the nonprofit’s president and CEO, donned a white robe as a handful of people took seats in wicker chairs.
“For those who are seeking shelter or more stable living environments,” Vargas said from the front, “for those who are sick and those who care for them, we pray to the Lord.”
“Lord, hear our prayer,” the congregation responded.
Another deacon held up a golden chalice, while a priest prayed over a wafer. Attendees lined up to take Communion.
Outside, another line grew. Seemingly everyone had backpacks or totes filled to the brim. One woman’s metal cart accidentally tipped over, and a plastic cup bounced on the asphalt. Everyone slowly passed the tables with cocoa, and several topped off their drinks with piles of marshmallows that jiggled and swayed as they walked forward.
A separate, smaller line formed for anyone in wheelchairs or with animals. One security guard told that group to wait a few minutes until more seats opened up.
“We’re out of space for ADA and pets,” she said.
As the guard spoke, another woman walked into the dining hall while arm and arm with “Feather Joe,” a person inside a giant turkey costume that serves as Father Joe’s seasonal mascot. A man waiting with a dog gestured toward the pair in mock indignation. “She got a bird!”
The settings inside included paper placemats made by students at Woodland Park Middle School in San Marcos. The kids had sketched full-color turkeys, one pretty spot-on Snoopy and several inspirational messages. A man with a mustache lifted up his mat to show off the words written on top: “Believe you can.”
Something crashed by the door. The same woman had again lost control of her cart. The mess was quickly cleared, somebody handed her a Pepsi and she was ushered to an open seat.
Trays clattered in the kitchen. There were 130 turkeys, 250 pounds of Brussels sprouts and 300 pounds of mashed potatoes and gravy. Volunteers passed out pecan pie.
Roger Jones, 85, had driven down from Palm Springs to help serve the meal. It was his first time volunteering here and he was already raving about how many friendly people he had met: Michael, Erica, Antonio. Other members of his family were also part of the serving crew, including a daughter who had flown in from Texas.
This was shaping up to be a Thanksgiving tradition, he said.
A local musician plucked at an acoustic guitar. The set list included “Here Comes The Sun,” “Stairway to Heaven” (solo included) and, swapping out guitar for violin, a Celtic jig.
John Conroy, 66, sat eating a few feet away. Conroy said he’d been evicted from his Normal Heights townhouse after the building’s owner died, leading to a period of sleeping outside and in shelters. The experience was terrifying. At one point he was hit by a car while crossing the street.
Conroy credited several local organizations, including Father Joe’s and Serving Seniors, with eventually getting him his own apartment. Yet he was still on a tight budget and wanted to take advantage of a free meal. Also, the potatoes were good.
Others were still on the edge.
Korlina Gigger, 24, said she was sleeping in a dirt lot by City College. Gigger is about 7 months pregnant, and while stopping by Father Joe’s medical clinic Wednesday she noticed the crowd. Gigger asked somebody what was going on. She was guided inside.
At one point in the morning, a man in a baseball cap asked a reporter to join him and his family. The man sat by a woman and four children, one of whom clutched a duffel featuring Olaf the snowman from Disney’s “Frozen.”
The man asked in Spanish whether there was any nearby places to sleep. The family thought they were on a wait list for shelter, but nothing seemed to be available. Right now they were on the street.
The reporter hailed a representative for Father Joe’s, who talked with them in a hushed voice.
It’s possible there will be more space soon. Whenever temperatures drop, a number of places around the county transform into emergency shelters.
Father Joe’s dining hall is one. If you clear out the tables, the space becomes a bedroom.
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