Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, August 19, 1993 TAG: 9308180038
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Beth Macy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
He's had a rough time of it lately. His marriage is breaking up. He's in a support group for divorced and separated people.
But his lunch hours give him hope. That's when he drives down to the Roanoke Area Ministries and engages a room full of men in playing, learning and perfecting the sport Jacobs knows best: table tennis.
That's ping pong to most of us, including the guys lying on couches, many of whom frittered the days away lethargically, sullenly, before Jacobs started showing up and challenging them to games.
They're a sight to watch, all of them - loud, competitive, joking around. Jacobs takes them and the game so seriously he brings his own special paddle in a fancy case and coaches them on their errors, often repeating a shot so they can learn to hit it right.
"Nobody can beat him," says Robert Walker, one of two guys whose skills have almost caught up to Jacobs'.
A 30-year-old kitchen-equipment repairman, Jacobs got his introduction to the day shelter and soup kitchen when he was called in to fix a RAM House stove.
Passing through the shelter on the way back to the kitchen, he saw a couple guys playing ping pong. But he noticed they didn't know the rules or the proper way to serve. And most of the clients were asleep on old couches and chairs waiting for the free midday meal or just passing time.
"To me, the place was like reality check: Those guys could've been me. I've been pretty poor myself. I can relate to how they are," he says.
"When people don't have hope, when they're worrying about their next meal. . . . Well, I knew I couldn't offer any money, but I can offer my time."
Volunteer coordinator Susan Adams calls Jacobs and her other volunteers ordinary do-gooders. "There's no heroism here," she says. "But there is such a beauty in the simplest occurrences and goodnesses."
An elderly woman named Elizabeth has been volunteering every Tuesday afternoon for years. "She has bandages on her arms, she's blind in one eye, she has cancer problems," Adams says. "She doesn't say much, but someone told me one time, `That's the lady who taught my child how to read on the hospital pediatric ward.' "
A group of Dominion bankers calls every few mornings to see if Adams needs volunteer help serving lunch. If she does, they loosen their ties, roll up their sleeves and serve the 100-plus clients.
"One woman at the bank who lost her job said to me, `I never understood RAM House before till my husband and I discussed how to make ends meet,' " Adams recalls. Her husband had been laid off, too, and they both agreed to eat their noon meal at RAM House, saving their cash for fresh fruit and vegetables for their children.
RAM House, located in the former Our Lady of Nazareth church in the West End area, is full of ironies like these. Homeless people hanging out in front of marbled altars. Former bankers who go from serving free lunches to eating free lunches. A table-tennis expert who's hit hard times himself, but not so hard that he can't find a little joy in getting someone up off the couch.
Adams has been short on volunteers for a few weeks now. Some of her regulars are on vacation, some in the hospital. Last week Adams herself had to abandon her desk duties to spoon out beef stew and mashed potatoes in the kitchen.
There are people who ask: Why don't you get the people lying on couches to help out? Why not let them pay for their meals by serving a few themselves? Adams bristles at the notion.
"A lot of folks here are on the streets because of deinstitutionalization. Some have personality problems, addictions; they're not healthy. We need to be protective of people's right to sit and stare into space without being made feel guilty."
Call 981-1732 if you've got an hour or two to spare. As Jacobs, the table-tennis player, puts it: "If you don't have anything inside, go down there and serve lunch for a day, and you'll realize what all you have to be thankful for.
"Sometimes it takes somebody who doesn't have anything - their only home is a locker at the RAM House - to make you see things straight again."
Sometimes, he adds, skipping lunch can be the best reality check of all.
Beth Macy is a features department staff writer. Her column runs Thursdays.
by CNB