FOOD & DRINK

A year-round Santa packing nutritious meals

Alan Graham's food trucks bring giving spirit of Christmas to where the homeless gather

By Addie Broyles
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Alan Graham was 14 the first time he dressed up as Santa for a department store promotion in Alvin.

This was long before Graham, who turns 53 today, had the fluffy white beard, round belly and jolly laugh to go with the red suit.

He'll dress up as Santa again this Christmas Day but not for young children to sit on his lap and whisper gift wishes in his ear. He'll be handing out hot cocoa, fruit, sandwiches, candy and coats to dozens of homeless people downtown. Since founding Mobile Loaves & Fishes, an organization dedicated to feeding people living on the streets, 10 years ago, Graham has dressed up as Santa each year.

"We believe in the principle of abundance, not scarcity," the former real estate developer says, so he brings a truck overflowing with good food to the homeless not just on holidays but every single day of the year.

This year, his belly is shrinking, thanks to bariatric surgery last month that has caused him to lose more than 40 pounds already, but his enthusiasm for giving is as large as ever.

His faith is what called him to start this ministry in the first place and his faith is what pushes him on, week after week, to provide for those in need, even though "need" isn't a word Graham likes to use. It's too vague. He wants to put a face to that generic term and talk about and to the individuals he serves.

"We do whatever God calls us to do each day," Graham says, and he rarely sends a fax or e-mail to do it. "It's a powerful thing to let God show you what you're supposed to do."

Santa's workshop

At least three full-time Mobile Loaves & Fishes trucks hit the streets daily, delivering quality food directly to people without a place to call home. Eleven trucks in total serve Central Texas, and during the past decade, the program has extended to New Orleans; Minneapolis; Nashville, Tenn.; San Antonio and Providence, R.I.

In Central Texas the custom trucks, which cost $40,000 fully outfitted, start in Austin from the primary Mobile Loaves & Fishes commissary off Capital of Texas Highway and Bee Cave Road.

Before one of the truck runs on a Wednesday night a few weeks ago, Graham walks through the cluttered commissary, pointing out the perishable and nonperishable items bought with donated money and donated directly, including shelves full of toiletries and enough Halloween candy collected at this year's candy drive to fill several 44-gallon trash cans. He likes things neat and tidy and in their place, but he doesn't mind the mess. As long as his friends on the streets are getting what they need.

Central Market donates bread and the Coats for Kids drive provided 1,000 coats to give out. A local meat processing plant recently gave about 1,000 pounds of ground venison to use for burgers. Mobile Loaves & Fishes buys apples, oranges, milk and juice wholesale with money from many supporting organizations, schools and churches. Mobile Loaves & Fishes' only annual fundraiser is a wine tasting and auction held in May.

Jay Meany, a volunteer who found out about the group after attending the wine auction a few years ago, applauds Graham for his advanced Web and marketing knowledge. "He leverages technology to amplify the capacity of what he does," Meany says. Graham, who Twitters through @mlfnow and uses a Flip camera to shoot videos while on the streets, also blogs about his work and issues facing the homeless community, including the recent death of mayoral candidate Jennifer Gale, on www.mlfnow.org/blog.

Cooking classes are another way Mobile Loaves & Fishes serves the public. Some people who live on the streets find steady work and can afford an RV, but they might not know how to utilize the kitchen. "If you've lived your life off the dollar menu, you probably don't know how to cook," Graham says during the commissary tour. Classes instruct people on the magic of a slow cooker or how to cook on a grill. Graham says trips are made into homeless camps to teach dutch oven cooking. He even brings a volunteer nutritionist along to teach the men and women how to counter the effects of drug and alcohol abuse with healthy food.

If Graham is the Santa in charge, then the nearly 12,000 Austin volunteers are his hard-working elves without whom the organization could not exist. Tricia Graham, Alan's wife of 24 years and the group's commissary manager, rattles off a dozen groups that regularly come into the commissary to prepare food. Groups of people come in to wrap baked potatoes (a built-in oven on the trucks keeps them warm), pack salads or stock the trucks. Families with kids come in to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the kitchen.

Trucks leave in the early evening for predetermined locations, which are accessible to the public on a Google map on the group's Web site (You'd be surprised how many homeless people have access to the Internet at libraries and elsewhere, Graham says), but Graham and other volunteers often make unannounced stops if they see people gathered in parking lots of back alleys. Graham wishes he had the volunteer bandwidth to do more lunch runs, but he only has enough daytime volunteers to take lunches out a few times a month. There are 10 full-time paid staffers, but most of the truck runs are conducted entirely by volunteers.

On the street

Under a full moon, the day before the first snow of the year a few weeks ago, Graham and his truck of volunteers pulls up to the corner of 12th and Chicon streets, not far from what used to be the only black theater in Austin. People walking slowly along the sidewalks, bundled in hats and layers of coats, flock to the well-known white truck with a silver bed and a mlfnow.org logo printed on the back. The volunteers step out, unaffected by the lingering smell of urine, and lift up the side and back doors, revealing neatly stacked sandwiches donated by ThunderCloud Subs and rows of shiny oranges and apples. In the back, one of the volunteers mixes what Graham calls "ghetto cappuccinos" with Swiss cocoa mix and hot coffee from a built-in tap.

One of the most popular items, second only to a fresh pair of socks, is boiled eggs, which are prepared to the organization's specifications by members of the community and then donated. Valarie Williams, 43, picked out one of the eggs and sat on a nearby stoop to carefully peel it.

Williams, who is HIV positive, is a poet without a home - or a pen - to her name. What she does have is a troubled history, which includes head trauma to her 2-month-old son in 1990 that left him with brain damag. He's a teenager now, living in a care facility outside San Antonio, but Williams doesn't see him often.

"It's not about the egg," she says as she flicks pieces of the shell on the ground. "It's about the love that comes with the egg."

Graham makes an attempt to befriend nearly every person he meets on the street. Williams recites to Graham a poem she made up about her holiday wish. "Half an ounce of love, an ounce of peace and a tender stroke," she says. He smiles and thanks her for sharing.

"This is my poetry," Graham says, gesturing to the truck and the dozen or so people mingling around, enjoying a hot beverage on one of the coldest nights of the year.

Graham knows it's not about the eggs or the ham-and-cheese sandwiches. "Food is just a conduit to connect human beings together."

Family problems, mental problems, we all have examples of that in our own families, "but if your family breaks up, then your community breaks up. That was your sanctuary," he says. "Then there's no one to hold you, to love you, to nurture you. We try to do that out here" by bringing an abundance of fresh, tasty food - `The good things in life.' "

Graham set out to serve differently than many soup kitchens or homeless shelters. He bristles when he stands on the East Austin sidewalk and talks about having to trek downtown and stand in line to get food. "You have no choice. Instead of saying, `Here is your food unit,' we say `Here are your choices.' "

It's upsetting to him that in this throw-away society, where day-old bread is handled like dirty laundry and crates of fruits and vegetables are tossed in trash bins, people are still going hungry. "We live in the garden of Eden," he says. He sees no reason homeless people can't be served with love and care and dignity.

Everyday Christmas

Graham-turned-Santa won't be alone handing out food and good will Christmas morning. It's been a family tradition for Tricia and the couple's five children to forgo opening gift-wrapped presents to join Graham on the streets.

Spending the day serving others has "transformed my family from the orgy of materialist consumerism into putting Christ first," he says. "They see the reality of the world ? Not one present will be bought this year."

Graham still embraces the holiday, but he firmly believes "the abundance and giving spirit of Christmas should be every day."

abroyles@statesman.com; 912-2504