Rapture

Ten bucks for most packages, five if it is small, twenty for the big ones. Shopping advice? Free.

Olena, Olga and I were back again gift wrapping for the food bank. Last year was so nice, we decided to do it twice – Saturday and Monday evening, 4:00 to 9:00 pm. Still a week from Christmas, the traffic was slower providing more time for conversations.

“I am staying with our host family and I want to get them something for Christmas but I don’t know what.”
“Let me help. Come with me, I’ll show you some things you could buy.”
Olga escorted the man with a four year old boy in one hand while the other navigated a stroller holding an eighteen month girl to the adjacent Walmart. They returned twenty minutes later, two boxes of Ferraro chocolate ready for wrapping, the third package opened so the children could indulge.
“We are from Eritrea. We have been here three months. Thank you so much for help.”

Eritrea, Cuba, Ghana, Mexico. Those are the original countries of people who shared their background. Sarah, the Food Bank staff, immigrated from Syria with her family when she was eight years old; Ping, another volunteer, is a relatively recent arrival from China; Olga’s parents were refugees from Ukraine, mine moved to Canada from the Netherlands. The broken English, the conversations, the questions throughout both evenings indicated other parts of the world were passing by. If you want a taste of Toronto, shop at the Dufferin Mall. Everyone speaks English, but English is hardly spoken.

“I tell my kids, you don’t know how good you have it. I just came back and I was thinking, my God, what a beautiful place, how clean it is, how lucky we have it. I have been helped alot and I am always looking for ways to give back.”

People were also able to donate non-perishable goods at the booth. One man bought numerous packages of pasta and macaroni meals.
“When I first came, I was dishwashing and needed to use the local food bank. Now I am with a tech firm and doing well. It’s important to give back.”
He stopped again later asking how he could volunteer.

This year Olga purchased spools of special ribbon to create colourful bows for some of the larger gifts as an added treat. She taught Olena and Ping as well so they were able to provide that extra touch to the wrapping. “Wow, that bow is fantastic. I have more shopping later this week and I’m gonna come back.”
The man’s eyes were wide open as he watched the care put into the gift for his daughter.
“I have to warn you, the bows are my Mom’s special. Today is her last shift.”

A number of people donated cash, not wanting anything in return, or they topped up the payment for the wrapping.
“I am getting married in two weeks. Last year I bought her an engagement ring and had it wrapped here. My fiancé is Russian so I put the package in those dolls, you know, the ones that stack.”
His gift this year involved a ten dollar wrap; he bumped the payment up to 50.

“What can I get my husband? He is so picky.”
“What about a pair of warm pajamas?”
“No, he has lots and he’s not wearing them. I was thinking about those Italian cakes, how do you say, Pan…pane…ttone?”
“You have to emphasize the “e” at the end, like an Italian and raise your hand when you say it. PanetonnEH. They are delicious and last a long time. It can be expensive, but worth it.”
The woman returned later to show off her prized possession, an inexpensive pair of men’s pajamas. “Guess how much I paid for them.” She did not get it wrapped. She only wanted the conversation.

“I am so glad you guys are here. Last year you wrapped a sweater for my daughter who I hadn’t seen in three years. And it fit. You don’t know how special it feels to give someone a gift.”

“Fifty dollars for everything. Is that okay?”
“Sure, sure. It’s for charity. This is for charity?”
“Yes. Every dollar goes to support the Parkdale Food Bank.”