Feeding the homeless and hungry is a crusade for El Taylor

Even in the summer, El Taylor feels like Santa Claus.

Every other week or so, she makes about 100 peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and then hits the street, handing them out to the homeless.

“A lot of times, the majority of people I see are asleep, so it’s kind of like a Santa Claus mission and I’ll just leave stuff,” she says.

A senior in communications with a minor in anthropology, Taylor’s energy level is near nuclear. She talks quickly and often eloquently, a wide-open book of emotions and can-do spirit. Helping to feed the homeless—which is piled on top of her job at Puckett’s restaurant and her work as a freelance wedding coordinator—is her way of building a community, of taking care of the “weak links.”

“Everyone of us is a little seed in the community, and we all need to be fed and nourished and watered and taken care of,” she says. “Everyone, top to bottom. It doesn’t matter how much money you have; it doesn’t matter how little money you have. It doesn’t matter what color you are, who you like to kiss, what you like to eat. Everyone should be taken care of.

“The least that I can do is make a sandwich for somebody,” she says.

Her sandwich excursions were documented recently in a story from the Rising Rock course, which teaches real-world journalism to students. In the video component of the piece, she says, “Everybody likes the person who puts a plate of food down in front of them, so you can’t not like what you do when people are smiling at you.”

“El is an amazing storyteller who is very passionate about her work and it shows in the story about food,” says Billy Weeks, instructor in Rising Rock and a longtime newspaper photographer. “Along with her team, El has played an important role of leadership and reporting. For example, this past week she drove a couple of hours to report on a Native American dance story which will be published in a couple of weeks.”

Taylor takes her sandwiches onto the streets after she gets home from working at the restaurant. Using four loaves of bread, it takes her about an hour to make the sandwiches and she finishes around 10 p.m. or so. Then, for the next four or so hours, she heads out on her own to hand them out. Miller Park. The Community Kitchen. Behind the Pickle Barrel restaurant. Along M.L. King Boulevard. She always finds plenty of hungry people.

“We always have food in our pantry, so that’s something that you don’t consciously think about, that there’s someone who doesn’t have food.”

Yes, some of those she meets are drugged-up or drunk, but she’s also met many who are just down on their luck. Way down.

“I’ve met people who were teachers at one point and got a DUI and they lost their job, which led to them losing their home, which led them to living on the streets. They spiral all the way down and can’t get help and they’re just stuck. People sometimes seem like beaten-down animals.

“It hurts the worst when I see people with a kid. That’s the most disheartening thing.”

Out on the streets, she carries a knife and pepper spray, so walking alone at night doesn’t make her too nervous. And truth be told, it can be less scary than handing out sandwiches in the daytime, she says.

“During the day, it can get really intense, really fast. There are more people awake, so if there’s 10 people in front of me and two people don’t get sandwiches, those people are going to be really upset with me, and potentially there can be a fight break out.”

She’s seen a couple.

With the weather turning colder, Taylor says she plans to switch from sandwiches to blankets and gloves, which she did last year. It’s a decision that’s almost genetic .

“My grandmother always used to have two or three blankets in the back of her car, so when you’re coming off the interstate and there’s somebody standing there for whatever, she’d just throw a blanket at them. That’s always stuck with me.”

She’ll pick up $3 blankets, cheap gloves or socks at stores like Dollar Tree, she says. “Whatever you can get for warmth.”

One of her ultimate goals—she has a few—is to open her own restaurant, not only to serve people who come in and can pay, but those who can’t afford to come in but are still hungry.

“I know I’m going to lose so much money because of all the food I’m going to be giving away,” she laughs.

All photos by Elian Richter