When I was 14 years old, my brother, sister, and I went to live with our grandparents. On holidays, my grandmother would have my brother, and I load the trunk of her 1979 Lincoln Continental with hot, home-cooked food. We would drive to Pioneer Square, in Seattle's Downtown district, and feed the homeless from the trunk of her car.
My grandfather would arrive in his work truck, "Big Blue', to drop off my grandmother's portable keyboard. For the next two hours, she would sing church songs to Seattle's homeless while my brother and I loaded their plates with mashed potatoes, fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread, and German Chocolate cake.
One day, as we were packing up, I asked my grandmother why she cared about the homeless. Her response to me was: “Somebody has to care!” Her heart for giving is my inspiration.