Mom had asked me to go to the cannery with her for 2-3 hrs today. Her church owns & operates it as part of its welfare & parish preparedness initiatives. They needed volunteer labor, I to get out of the house. & I was interested enough to check out the factory machinations of food preparations.

Our assigned food product for the afternoon was flour. We were instructed to take a 50 lb bag, slit it open with a box cutter, use a big metal scoop to transfer it into 5.2 #10 cans that should weight 5.3 lbs each, take ‘em down to the lid-putter-on-er who on one side had a helper wipe the edge and add an oxi-pa(c)(k) and on the other side a rewiper, labeler & pallette stacker 7×7x7.

When the bag got down to the dregs, my mom would fold or pull one edge into a spout and try to shake the shake out of the corners and tap it into the chute and divide it up among the cans. For me, another method came instantly & naturally: tilt the flour to one end, press the scoop below the reserve, & fold the bag back up over the scoop getting all remaining crumbs all in one go. Efficient. Expert. Almost as if practiced.

I showed my mom the techniqe, thinking I would be helpful, and adding, “An old cocaine trick,” in a whisper in her ear. she gave me an indecipherable look that must have said in part that she was glad I was employing it on flour here at the church cannery rather than the alternative(s). “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” I said with a wink in a hush as I pulled away. She cracked a sly smile & slight shake of the head.