The Food Desert
Copyright© 2019 by qhml1
Chapter 13
Two weeks later the Councilman for our district approached me, asking for an hour of my time. There was another man with him when he showed up, and I met them at the pastry shop.
Over coffee and pastry the man made his pitch. “I’m also a Councilman, representing a district much like yours in another city. High crime rate, section 8 apartment complexes, high unemployment, the whole gamut of the ills of the poor and disadvantaged. BIll and I met at a conference last week, and he told me about you. If you could spare the time, I’d like for you to come to our city, meet with the Council, and explain what you’ve accomplished. Maybe you could offer some advice that will help us get something like you’ve created off the ground. Maybe you could expand, ever thought about that?”
No, I hadn’t. I was making really good money off the bakeries, the store and the pastry shop. Still, I was proud of what I’d accomplished, proud of the difference I was making in the community. I agreed to meet them in three-week’s time.
The first thing I did was talk it over with my advisors. Both Grandmas, Dan and Jose, Ms. Chen, Michael and Miguel. The consensus was that I should help them if I could.
I rented a big van and they all traveled with me. They dropped me off, saying they wanted to see the area while I talked to the Council.
It was a three-hour meeting. Most were all for a program like the one I’d stumbled onto. Two were totally opposed to it for some reason.
My people were waiting for me when I got through, and they took me to a soul food kitchen they’d found. I noted I was the only white face in the crowded dining room, and there was a lull in conversation when we entered. They must have decided I was harmless and the talking went back to a dull roar.
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