It all began with a beleaguered nurse’s request for someone to bake a pie.
What followed could happen only in the era of social media and was certainly fueled by everything 2020.
When University Heights Neighborhood Association neighbors saw her plea on our Facebook group page, the offers to help started flying. Threads exploded all over the page. Within days, about 40 households were actively working to cater an entire meal for both shifts at the COVID-19 unit at Cox South.
I can’t put into words the emotions running through the neighborhood or the degree to which this lifted spirits. The sense of community was palpable.
Throughout the pandemic, we’ve been told the best thing we can do for our country is to stay home and find new ways to connect with the people we love. It’s a terrible thing to not be able to take action against the biggest health threat we’ve seen in our lifetime.
I suspect one of the reasons this drive ignited the way it did is because it presented us a tangible way to take action. We could do something meaningful to show our friends on the front lines they are appreciated. They are valued. They are loved.
Offers of turkeys and hams flowed in. There were more pies than I could count. Every side you ever dreamed of, including 30 pounds of mashed potatoes and probably 20 pounds of sweet potatoes. We had donations of massive, gorgeous floral arrangements from The Nest and Blossoms and Baskets Gourmet, lovely cards expressing gratitude and thank-you letters written by the students of Reed Middle School.
The pop-up crusade was dubbed Operation Thank You, Nurses. The effort galvanized our neighborhood in a way I have never witnessed. It was magical.
We all knew from the outset a potluck was out of the question in a pandemic, but we were naively optimistic that a safe meal-delivery plan could be established.
Everyone tried, but it just wasn’t possible.
I can’t lie. Once that inevitable a-ha moment arrived, I experienced my own private WKRP Thanksgiving Day Turkey Drop moment.
But given that 2020 is the Year of the Pivot, as one astute neighbor dubbed it, I found a Plan B within minutes.
I reached across the park to my friend Marti Knauer, a Phelps Grove neighbor who crossed borders to enthusiastically support our effort. She also is a strong advocate and supporter of the homeless outreach program at the Veterans Coming Home Center.
We split the campaign in two. All of the arrangements, letters, prepackaged goodies, beverages and fruit would go to our health care workers. The meal would go to the homeless.
I posted an explanation of what happened on our Facebook page, explained the pivot, apologized for not doing a better job of thinking things through and braced for the worst. We’re a new association; I had visions of someone calling for me to step down.
I got an alert someone had commented. My stomach dropped. I clicked and …
“Helping is helping! I am sad we cannot show our health care workers how much we appreciate them but we are still helping someone. No worries on my part and I will deliver six dozen baked rolls to the address you provided tomorrow evening!”
“Sorry it didn’t work out for the health care workers but glad to see it’s still going to a good cause!”
“Only two things matter. First, people in need will have a great meal tomorrow. Second, we know we can mobilize and do beautiful work together. I’m proud to call UH home.”
This theme carried through nearly all of the responses.
Minutes later, I learned our miscalculation was serendipitous. No one had signed up to provide the Wednesday evening meal at the center. We needed to speed up our deadline to 3 p.m. Wednesday in order to provide it.
Hitting fast-forward further motivated the neighborhood.
New offers of casseroles and more arrived.
In the end, a full-size SUV headed north to the homeless center at 3 p.m. Wednesday, filled to capacity with all of the components for a splendid meal. Dozens of unsheltered folks enjoyed a feast they otherwise would not have had and there was enough left over to feed homeless youths through Rare Breed. In the wee hours of Thanksgiving Day, another full-size SUV headed south, filled with sweet and savory treats and gestures of gratitude for the workers enduring the worst this pandemic has to offer. Our efforts also landed UHNA members on the 10 p.m. KOLR-10 newscast.
UHNA spread cheer so much deeper into the community than we intended at the outset. It was beautiful. We failed up.
I’ve been thinking about all that happened in those few days, how a common goal galvanized our sense of community and strengthened the bonds between the houses in our little neighborhood. I think those bonds are even more important now because we are physically isolated from friends and family.
Our city’s wonderful network of neighborhood associations empowers us to work together to combat issues such as nuisance properties, poverty, planned development and more. But having an active neighborhood association also allows us to use our toolbox to mitigate the threat the pandemic poses on a micro level.
As we get deeper into the holiday season and this new virus tightens its grip, UHNA’s board has several things in the works to support those around us.
We already have collected a down payment on another, less-impulsive thank-you for front line health care workers at Christmas. On Black Friday, we launched our Merry and Bright Christmas Decorating Contest to lift spirits. And on a more practical level, we are sending a second postcard to every household in our neighborhood reminding them we have a fleet of volunteers ready to help them get whatever they need if they are quarantined or ill.
Our neighborhood has blown me away with its giving spirit, and I’ve no doubt our pop-up campaign made everyone’s Thanksgiving more joyful than it might have otherwise been.
And all of this happened because one tired nurse asked her neighbors if they could spare a pie.