The hash-slinging participants, serving food at the Shelter for Starving Artists and Underpaid Academics is an eclectic group of community minded, social conscience driven, thinkers — along with a mish-mash of community service sentenced, guilty of misdemeanors and not thinking about the consequences, petty miscreants.

Hannibal King is the lead volunteer hash-slinger and, by default, the chief criminal confidant and all-around busy-body at the shelter. He considers it his mission in life to learn something of questionable interest about each of his don’t-do-the-crime-if-you-can’t-do-the-time-on-the-serving-line associates.

He is an educated man in matters of the human condition, with multiple advanced degrees, of which, most do not translate into well paying positions (such as having a Doctorate in Deep Thought from the Douglas Adams Travel Agent Academy). He is also a published author in the self-help genre, with topics gleamed from conversations with his cohorts on the serving line. His latest book, “Self-Help is Better Than No Help at All” was on the North Middletown Best Seller List for almost an entire week.

Every fourth Thursday is long range planning day at the shelter. The three and a half members of the board, along with the cook, janitor, and anyone else that might be looking for an excuse to get out of the house, convene in the basement meeting room of the shelter to discuss very little — but, take a very long time doing it. Hannibal always attends — not because he is a member of the board (or the cook, or the janitor) — not because of his education or status as an author – but, because he enjoys stirring things up and is one of those people who is always looking for an excuse to get out of the house.

Long range planning, on this particular fourth Thursday, was revolving around the heady decision making process of determining which is the better color for painting the restroom walls — off-white or vibrant beige.

“The restrooms should reflect our mission of hope and understanding,” suggested Lady Audrey Grey-Fogg, formally of the London Foggs and currently of the apartment over the taxidermy shop on Main Street. Ms. Grey-Fogg is a spinster heiress of a long ago depleted fortune associated with being the far distant cousin of someone that held a title back when such things actually meant something.

“The restrooms should be able to be cleaned by just turning on a garden hose.” said Horace Granger, a stock broker before the Grand Recession — an economic downturn that skewed Horace’s career trajectory toward custodial consultation. Now, Horace is the voice of angry practicality during the long range planning sessions.

“The kitchen needs painting before the restrooms,” scolded Bjorn Bringle, a former coast guard chef and current shelter cuisine commander. He is a terrible cook and the reason the shelter is always serving soupy mashed potatoes.

“I make a motion we vote on which area to paint – kitchen or restrooms.” Adele Bertram, the chairperson of the Board enjoyed making motions.

“I second the motion,” chimed in Sylvester – a starving artist that finds prestige in only having one name –is a resident at the shelter and half member of the board. He has never made a motion on his own, but rarely turns down the opportunity to second one.

“Any discussion?” asked Adele, doing her best to follow whatever rules of order the Board was expected to follow.

“You should paint the dining hall and just be glad none of the guests go into the kitchen or use the restrooms,” suggested Hannibal.

Hannibal’s suggestion stirred the conversational pot. Bjorn bristled at the suggestion his kitchen ambience might be sub-par. Lady Grey-Fogg was mortified that anyone might find anything to be untoward at the shelter. Horace threatened to turn his garden hose on anyone that might challenge the thoroughness of his custodial responsibilities. The ensuing melee / debate would probably last for several hours, guaranteeing a long delayed return home.

Hannibal enjoys every fourth Thursday.

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.