Volunteers serve meals for those in need
“What’s up, man?” Gabe Muñoz boomed from behind his mask, briefly glancing up from the pot full of turkey that he scooped onto Styrofoam plates.
The man on a bicycle whizzed across the vacant lot toward Muñoz. A worn-out backpack hung over his back, a bandanna concealed the lower half of his face. But even with his mouth covered, it was clear from the lines that appeared around his eyes that a smile stretched across his face.
“This is my favorite holiday,” the man said as he stopped his bike in front of Muñoz and the table of food. “I don’t care what you are or what your status is, you can get something to eat.”
As residents across San Antonio holed up in their houses, some forgoing their usual Thanksgiving festivities to stave off the next wave of the coronavirus pandemic, Muñoz and other volunteers gathered under gray November skies to serve Thanksgiving meals to people who otherwise wouldn’t have something to eat.
Since the pandemic began, the number of families needing help from the San Antonio Food Bank has doubled. More than 140,000 people have filed for unemployment. Nearly 40,000 households have applied for city housing assistance programs.
“The pandemic has shown all of us how vulnerable we can be when we didn’t expect it,” said Katie Vela, who leads the South Alamo Regional Alliance for the Homeless. “People have lost jobs, and all of a sudden it’s difficult to pay rent and possibly put food on the table for your family. We can all be vulnerable with a certain set of circumstances that are out of our control.”
Glennda Buckner is among those whose lives were turned upside down. In years past, she would’ve spent Thanksgiving watching football with family and gorging herself on mashed sweet potatoes and marshmallows — her favorite holiday dish.
But this year, the 43-year-old lost her job working at an assisted living facility.
Then she lost her apartment. It’s been two months since then, and she still doesn’t have a newplace to call home. But Buckner has hope: She said she’s working with a caseworker from the Salvation Army to get into a job training program and a new
“The pandemic has shown all of us how vulnerable we can be when we didn’t expect it. People have lost jobs, and all of a sudden it’s difficult to pay rent and possibly put food on the table for your family.” Katie Vela, leader of the South Alamo Regional Alliance for the Homeless
apartment.
“I’m so excited — so excited,” she said.
This year, she spent Thanksgiving with her boyfriend, meandering through the streets west of downtown. That’s where they found Muñoz — across the street from Haven for Hope, handing out meals to anyone who needed them.
For Muñoz, this is a Thanksgiving tradition. It began in 2012,
when he was driving through the city and saw a little boy standing at an intersection selling apples and oranges. The child looked about 4 years old, Muñoz said, and his parents waited near the side of the road with him.
“I was just thinking,” Muñoz recalled, “my kids are at home playing Xbox.”
Shortly after that, Muñoz, who leads a rock tribute band called SA Lights, began organizing monthly meals for people experiencing homelessness. Since then, he and members of his band have prepared and served more than 90 of them. They typically hand out sandwiches and chips, but on Thanksgiving and Christmas, they always serve turkey and all the fixings.
Joey Vela came across the group of volunteers while riding his bicycle a couple of blocks away from his apartment. The retired Marine Corps veteran said he doesn’t have any family in San Antonio, so he always celebrates the holiday at the Raul Jimenez Thanksgiving Dinner.
But this year, because the dinner’s in-person gathering had to be canceled because of the coronavirus, Vela hadn’t planned to celebrate the holiday — until he saw the SA Lights members serving up plates of food.
“I know somebody who lives down by the bridge,” Vela told the volunteers. “I always take him something.”
“Absolutely,” said Melissa Crowley, the band’s manager. She handed Vela two plates in plastic bags so he could hang them on his bicycle’s handlebars.
“It’s a blessing,” Vela said. “Y’all made my day.”