Leslie Morgenson

What Cannot Be Named

Leslie Morgenson December 1, 2013

There was a new face in our midst this past year which isn’t so unusual but what was singular about this new fellow, Randall, was the narrative that arrived with him. Just having met Randall, two of my colleagues were assisting him in a move to Kitchener. They realized quickly that the situation was complex and asked if there was anyone else helping him, family, friends or workers. Randall made a quick call and a young guy mid-twenties arrived shortly thereafter. By evidence of their conversation they knew each other well.

Communal Tables

Leslie Morgenson September 1, 2013

In 1985, I went to New York City for the first time. I was 26 years old. And though we ventured to many of the typical tourist sites, the place that stands out the most for me that first trip was eating at the Carnegie Deli. Carnegie Deli was my first experience with communal tables. I can’t remember if we purposely went there or if we simply stumbled upon it, but in the tale I tell we came upon it accidentally because that’s the beauty of New York City: something exciting is waiting around every corner.

Respect, Acceptance, Dignity

Leslie Morgenson December 1, 2012

Allowing another person dignity should not be difficult. It should be second nature to us. After all it is what we too want most. So why is it difficult? Because we fail to understand that the concept of dignity is twofold. It is recognizing that a being has a right to respect and ethical treatment. But also this: it is accepting that a person has the right to choose their own actions. This is the one that challenges us to see beyond our own understanding. It requires us to step through the passageway into the realm of our imagination and suspend those old notions that have served us well. It is difficult because we love those old notions for their predictability and yet in a corner of our minds we know how invigorating risk can be.

The Passionate Heart of Fiction

Leslie Morgenson December 1, 2011

Sometimes we are in the fortunate position of having work that is inextricably linked to who we are and how we move through this world. I observe this in my Outreach coworkers as they strive to define the community they work with and at the same time define who they themselves are. Stories play a large part in the work of outreach by slowly giving us a picture that leads to a deeper understanding of the person.

Watching Our Language

Leslie Morgenson March 1, 2011

“Angst” is a word we in the English speaking world have adopted from the German language because we have no single word of our own that completely describes the feeling of fear and anxiety that encompasses a person’s life. But though we borrow the word and use it extensively we cannot fully grasp its origin because it is a word that has sprung from a people who were at the centre of both World Wars. A word from a culture with a historical tradition of complex relationships with other nations and because of those wars, it may just be a culture that has had to do more soul searching than any other citizenry.

Dark Night in Shining Armour

Leslie Morgenson September 1, 2010

The early city founders of Waterloo, living as they were in the late 19th century, a time before modern electricity as we know it, proceeded to enact a measure known as “the moonlight schedule”. Gas lit street lamps were turned off during a full moon to make use of its reflected light to illuminate the city streets. At that time there would have been nothing unusual about this action. Until the 20th century, people everywhere lived in tune with the natural world. Indeed, according to the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada (RASC), “All civilizations through recorded history have constellations woven into their culture.” Did those early founders have any inkling when they drafted their ‘moonlight schedule’ that they were on the cusp of change that would mark them as the last generation for whom the darkness of the night landscape was as familiar as the day?

The Cardinal Who Sang Alto

Leslie Morgenson December 2, 2008

I signed up this year to sing Messiah in the Mennonite Mass Choir. And, since I have always sung soprano, that is where I placed myself. But I soon discovered that Handel had something other than my voice in mind when he wrote the soprano line. I simply couldn’t reach some of the notes. Before I quit however, I was encouraged to sit with the altos for one week. To my surprise, not only did I find a home, but I wondered what took me so long to see how the alto line, although challenging, resonated with my whole being.

Walking Through Memories

Leslie Morgenson September 1, 2008

I was joyfully spurred on to begin walking to work for many reasons including my need for exercise, but mostly I was feeling as if there was something I was missing by not walking. Everyone at St. John’s Kitchen is a walker and I’ve recently been reading Rebecca Solnit, Iain Sinclair and Henry David Thoreau who all speak as if walking were the last frontier. The stories of walkers are vibrant as if they were engaged in life while those of us in cars and buses were mere spectators.

St. John’s Kitchen – Testimonies

Leslie Morgenson March 1, 2008

The restaurant at the Westin Hotel in New York city recently added to their menu, a bagel dish featuring white truffles and gold flecked jelly. This new item sells for $1,000 US. But apparently that can be topped. The Serendipity 3 Restaurant also in NY, has a gold flaked dessert on their menu worth $25,000. Fortunately, they have yet to make a sale.

For all those who wonder how there can be poverty in this world where there is in fact enough food to feed everyone, here is the first piece of the equation. Though some may consider it simply a lark, such obscene overpricing is all part of an ongoing message- we always need to be spending. And our overspending is what drives prices out of reach for more people everyday.

St. John’s Kitchen: Walking

Leslie Morgenson December 1, 2007

I remember taking a train alone from Kitchener many years ago. Young and troubled, facing an uncertain path in life, for the next six hours I had nothing to do but ponder my doubts. There was a light snow on the tracks which gave the traveler a muffled awareness. And as I stared out the window, I became absorbed with the passing surroundings and began to focus outside instead of inside. I felt as if I were on a mischievous voyage, peeking into people’s true lives for the train does not travel down the lovely manicured facades of town.

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