Hub Happenings in the Milan / Berlin / Gorham Region

In early Hub days, we had the luck to work closely with Brittany Sampson, who we simply called “B.” A veteran community organizer and deep of heart, so many of her insights have followed me along in this work: they are road markers that I tend to go back to when I feel stuck about things and unsure of myself. We once spoke about community dinners that she would help with in Portland, Maine: she spoke about the accessibility of the food, the abundance, the care, and the love that went into these dinners. A picture of folks breaking bread together, getting their most basic need met, as well as needs that they may not have been aware of: camaraderie and community.

In surveying these past few years with the Hub, it’s a definitive part of my work to feed people. In early Hub days I used to joke that I might be singularly responsible for the increased cholesterol rates in the North Country: I tended to have a case of hot dogs in tow for every event. With the advent of the yearly community dinners with Milan Village sixth graders, I began to notice how intentional cooking and eating together brought depth to the practice. Not just providing a need, but infusing the act of eating with love and care. Taking the time to make sure that folks can eat together, in a comfortable space, means that we get to witness community and connection being made in real time. 

Of course, this hallmark of how I show up harkens back to B’s repeated advice to show up as ourselves, in authenticity, and keeping our natural bents and comfort in mind as well. I grew up within the structure of the communal meal. A preacher’s daughter, there were endless church potlucks (often with some very frightening offerings). As soon as we were old enough, my sisters and I were conscripted into service: setting up folding tables and chairs, breaking them down again when dinner was over, washing dishes and wiping them dry. By the time I was in middle school, cooking weeknight dinners counted as a weekly chore rotation. During the holidays, I spent most of the time in the kitchen with my Auntie Sue: peeling potatoes, snapping green beans, watching my Grammie carve a roast with a special knife that she carried in a ziploc in her purse on special occasions. It’s no surprise that I spent the bulk of my adult life slinging drinks and serving food at a very busy local bar. Witnessing the power of food and drink bring folks together in joy, in grief, and to just survive another rainy Tuesday, brought understanding of how the simple act of eating, or drinking lots of PBR, created endless loops of community. 

In these spaces, not only was community created, but shared learning and safety nets were formed. These are important by-products of community: knowing who to call when the boiler is on the fritz, why we should dump that person that treats us like garbage, how to rock a baby to sleep, and why we matter, how we notice that you aren’t there, that we are here for one another. In these spaces, there is value in every aspect and everybody can show up according to their capacity. The person that brings the mustard is as important as the person eating the hot dog, right? Without one, we can’t have the other. Incorporating the shared meal as a standard practice allows for a breadth of neighbors to show up and contribute according to their abilities, pace, and desire.

In creating space for neighbors to break bread together, we are also breaking down walls of isolation and individuality, bringing trust and vulnerability to forefront. Ultimately, eating together is an intimate act. Ram Dass says, “Eating together is one of the most intimate and profound ways of being with another human being. It is a ceremony of connection, a way of saying: we are here, together, alive, and sharing this moment.” It’s saying that we see one another and our inherent needs for nourishment on multiple levels, bodies and souls. We see one another’s humanity. And, like Anthony Bourdain said, “Food may not be the answer to world peace, but it’s a start.”