On the Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving, 20 volunteers at Miss Virginia's Food Pantry served 551 people as they walked through the front door of the small house at 1312 S. Hanna St.
It's not uncommon for representatives from 900 families to come to the pantry on the Tuesdays and Wednesdays it's open each week.
This year, more than 5,100 people have used the services. During November, 64,000 pounds of food were given out.
The numbers are staggering, but for pantry director Joe Miller, they mean nothing compared to the people.
Numbers are just a way to keep tabs at the area's largest self-supporting pantry, allowing Miller to find ways to help people who have personal stories and needs.
The 76-year-old loves taking care of them all no matter how long it takes. Although the pantry is only open six hours a week, Miller works a full-time gig. Running the food pantry isn't what Miller does, it's who he is.
“You come down here and you fall in love with the place, and you see all kinds of possibilities,” Miller said. “I came down here with the idea of solving this problem and then that problem and it all led to this.”
After retiring as an English teacher for 351/2 years at age 63, Miller was working on his carpentry skills when Leon Youngpeter, president of the Inner City Hope Corp. which runs the pantry, asked for help in 2009 on a couple projects. Miller said his father taught him that when you see a problem you think you have a solution to, you don't just walk by it. Since then, Miller has never walked away, becoming the pantry director in 2014.
Virginia Schrantz, a nurse, opened Miss Virginia's Mission House in the 1960s and helped everyone she could until she died in 1998. Gene Ashby was the first pantry director, followed by Tom Osborne and Miller.
“We used to get about 25 people,” longtime volunteer Barb Hicks said. “The place has changed so much, and it's not that simple neighborhood place where they came to get things. We used to know everybody, but we don't just service that little neighborhood any more. Nobody gets turned down, and everybody gets served.”
The pantry is open 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The house is believed to be more than 100 years old and has been renovated a few times, but there's not much room for the 20 volunteers to maneuver each day. There's also only so much storage space, and volunteers often have to move things around and sometimes place them outside to start processing incoming donations.
Miller is at the center of it all, with arms outstretched, holding everything. He loves taking care of it all, no matter how much time or effort it takes.
“It would be hard to quantify what he does because he gives his cellphone number out like cotton candy and everybody has it,” said Miller's seven-year assistant Judy Tkacz. “He'll be at lunch, or shopping at the grocery or hardware store and it rings all the time. He goes to church at a different time now so he can pick up food and bring it back to the pantry because it works out best that way.”
And unloading on those Sunday mornings is usually a family affair involving some of his three daughters and 10 grandchildren. Miller and his wife, Joanne, celebrated their 50th anniversary in August, but no one can remember their last vacation.
The pantry could use more volunteers, but there's little time or space to talk to or train them during serving hours. Besides, Miller would rather use that time to talk to the people outside and coming through the door. Some have problems other than food, and he usually knows what to say or whom to call or where to go for help.
The day is so chaotic, but also efficient. As Tkacz said, if you don't drink your cup of coffee in the car on the way in, it'll be ice cold before you have time to pick it up again.
About half of the volunteers have served at least 10 years, and they thrive on camaraderie and helping others. They've all bought in to the pantry's mission and are as integral as the people and companies that donate the food.
“It isn't only one person,” Miller said. “This is such a collective, you would not believe. If all of a sudden I got killed in an automobile accident or something like that and it's all over, this place would keep on rolling. Things would move right along.”
Maybe, but it sure wouldn't be the same.
“He would have made a good minister,” said volunteer Joe McGuire. “That's just the kind of person he is. He'll say 'No' to nobody and help you out in any way he can.”
That's because, Miller says, there's never been a good teacher who didn't know how to love. He just loves a lot more people than he ever dreamed of.
“Joe is the driving force at Miss Virginia's,” Youngpeter said. “He's deep into it and watches over it like you would watch over one of your own kids.”
