It was April and I was warm and working inside. A shift in the dish washing room in the kitchen of Underwood-Memorial hospital went like this:
The dinner dishes from the previous evening were patiently awaiting your arrival. They were sitting in the food carts used to deliver the meals to the patients. First thing I did was start up the big Hobart dish washing machine. While that was warming up we had the wonderful chore of scraping all of the uneaten food into a big stainless steel trough, and we would push all of it down the various garbage disposals. Then we'd feed the hundreds of grimy plates and cups and silverware onto the conveyor belt of the dishwasher. The guys on the other end had to inspect everything to make sure it was clean. If plates still had stuff sticking to them, they went through a second time. Stubborn bits left on silverware meant that the offending cutlery was put into a hot water bath with sanitizing solution in it, and then put back through the steaming Hobart.
When all the stuff was clean and stacked to be sent back into the kitchen so they could be made dirty again, we had to spray down the dish room, squeegee everything down so we'd be ready to do the morning's breakfast dishes.
Repeat the process.
Eat lunch.
Repeat the process with the lunch dishes.
Go home.
I had money and I had re-connected with old friends. I went back to Gateway and our "guidance" counselors, and began the process of applying to that new college in the woods of Atlantic County.
Down in the woods of the Vineland/ Millville area, a young man was preparing for his future as well, and how his friends were to assist him.