I finally asked for help at the food pantry

Dear Editor,

I spent two months choosing between gas and groceries after my hours were cut at the warehouse. I told myself pantries were for other people—people in worse shape. Pride is expensive.

When I walked into St. Luke's pantry, a volunteer named Janet did not make me explain my whole life. She handed me a bag, asked if anyone at home had allergies, and told me to come back next week regardless of paperwork. I cried in my car—not from shame, from relief.

There are more of us living close to the edge than our politics admit. Thank you to the volunteers who make asking for help feel like dignity instead of defeat.

— Tom Harrington