There Fran Berkowitz stood yesterday morning, Santa hat firmly planted on her head, as she secured the lids on tray after tray of baked fish, egg noodles and mixed vegetables at the end of a makeshift assembly line.
In the leaky kitchen of what was once the famed Haussner's restaurant in Highlandtown, known for its strawberry pie and its walls covered in artwork, crews of volunteers arrive daily to gather up groceries and a week's worth of freshly prepared meals to deliver to poor, homebound people with HIV and AIDS.
This is now the home of Moveable Feast, a nonprofit outreach group begun in 1989 in the kitchen of one man who wanted to help some of his friends, or so the lore goes. Now 600 people in the Baltimore area and the Eastern Shore depend on the weekly food - and kindness - its volunteers provide.
On Christmas, to allow the regular volunteers time to spend with their families, Temple Beth El in Baltimore County provides the volunteers who have the holiday off and don't have a holiday to celebrate.
"I come out to help people that are unable to take care of themselves," said Berkowitz, a Pikesville woman who does marketing for her husband's Essex pharmacy. "Any type of assistance I can do, I do. I wouldn't want to be in their predicament. If I was, I'd want to make sure someone was taking care of me.
"I go to shul on Saturday and pray some day these people will be able to take care of themselves."
Haussner's was probably one of the busiest restaurants in town yesterday, despite closing in 1999 after 73 years as an East Baltimore institution.
On the bar, past the door painted with the caution "Strictly Stag," sat meal upon meal packed into plastic bags waiting to be sent on their way. On the bakery case sat paper grocery bags filled with other needed items - toothpaste, sports drinks, donated bagels.
'It is a mitzvah'
Cars lined up on the increasingly snowy streets, trunks open, to pack what they would need to make several stops. Wrapped gifts were included for patients with young children who could use Christmas cheer.
Betty Zlotowitz, one of the leaders of the synagogue's social action committee, a long list in hand, directed about 100 volunteers to their packages. "It's a gift to us to give a gift to others," she said. "It is a mitzvah to perform tikkun olam, which is helping the world, helping others."
The program that began as meals cooked in one man's kitchen has evolved just as the face of AIDS has changed, said Moveable Feast Executive Director Vic Basile. While AIDS was once a disease found mostly in white men, 40 percent of the charity's clients are now women, he said. Most are African-American, and many have children.
The mayor has declared AIDS a public health emergency in Baltimore, which has the fifth-highest rate of new infection in the country. The program has a waiting list, Basile said, and two people on the list died while waiting for assistance.
As he gave a tour of the Haussner's facility, he had to dodge white buckets set up to catch the water streaming through the ceiling on the soggy day. While it's good to be in a professional kitchen, given the nature of Moveable Feast's work, "the building is falling down around us," Basile said. He hopes the organization can find a new home in the new year.
Chilly deliverers
Outside, Ed Obstler sat idling in his car along Calvert Street as his wife, Sonia, and friend Adelaide Habel made their first stop of the morning, with Habel's red rain hat nearly blowing away in the piercing wind.
When the pair knocked at 42-year-old Brian Cox's apartment, he slowly made his way to the door. "Merry Christmas," he said with a giant smile, greeting his only company of the day aside from Diva and Bogart, his two Siamese cats.
The former flight attendant with US Airways has received weekly meals - and visits - from Moveable Feast for about three years. For a year before that he lived in the hospital, recovering from strokes.
"Without them, I don't know what I'd do, because they provide such good food, and they really care," Cox said, standing with the help of a walker. "Without them I wouldn't have lived this long. Most people lose their appetite when they get sick, but I still have a healthy appetite."
The visitors stayed as long as they could - there were more stops to be made - and then said their good-byes. "You take care of yourself," Habel said. "Have a happy, healthy year in 2003," Obstler said. Cox told them he has been HIV-positive for 20 years.
"They say I'm a miracle," Cox said.
The scene was played out around the city yesterday, as more than 200 shut-ins got visits. After they were done at Haussner's, many of the Temple Beth El volunteers would move on to Hope Lodge, a Baltimore home run by the American Cancer Society, to make Christmas dinner for its residents.
"We feel that we know a little bit about the needs of the people," said Stan Schneider, a Temple Beth El volunteer whose son died of AIDS 12 years ago. "He would have helped if he were here."