Every day except Sunday, retired Department of Corrections officer Rose Martinez shows up at the Pueblo Soup Kitchen. If she didn’t, or if her fellow volunteers weren’t equally reliable, there would be no breakfast or noontime meal for an estimated two hundred men, women and, lately, growing number of families who break bread who rely on them for basic sustenance.
Martinez, a Pueblo native, has been a dependable presence at the Soup Kitchen for every shift since last March. When she retired in 2016 after more than twenty years with the DOC, she knew she didn’t want to actually be retired. She wanted to “give back.” Then, almost out of the blue, she heard about a local program almost tailor made for people like her.
She connected with the Soup Kitchen through the Property Tax Work-Off Program. The county allows eligible taxpayers sixty and above or those with a disability to reduce a portion of their owed property taxes in exchange for volunteer work. The classic quid pro quo, ‘sweat equity’ for a tax break.
Martinez scanned the ten agencies approved by the county and her first call was to the Soup Kitchen. She’s been a daily presence there since last March 1st. “I do a lot of chopping,” she chuckled. “We don’t have fancy equipment,” she said. But the sheer volume of slicing, dicing, chopping and peeling, initially came at a price. “When I first started, I got blisters.” Blisters at the Soup Kitchen are an occupational hazard. When not doing that part of the job, she’s serving food and when that’s done, she sticks around to do clean up and prepare for the next day’s meals.
Initially, Martinez went to college with plans to do social work which she did for a few years. She liked the work, but the pay, not so much. When she began looking around—she didn’t want to leave Pueblo—she learned the Sheriff’s Department was hiring and got hired. She worked as a detention officer for a couple of years before taking another job with the DOC. The job took her to Limon for a few years but most of her time was spent at Pueblo’s San Carlos Correctional Facility. San Carlos houses inmates, the DOC says, “who exhibit the most severe and persistent behavioral health issues.”
Looking back, she said, working with inmates was good training for her volunteer position at the Soup Kitchen. “It’s very similar,” she said. Mental illness is often a common variable in both prisons and among the homeless population.
Being around people who visit the Soup Kitchen each day, including some whose behavior can often be unpre- dictable, doesn’t phase Martinez. “I think a lot of people who don’t have experience with that type of clientele would be afraid,” she said. Indeed. Martinez said police are called “quite often,” when someone gets out of control. But after a career dealing with inmates, the diminutive Martinez—she’s 5’2”—“it’s normal for me…I could prob- ably talk some people down (in a crisis situation).”
Like a letter carrier, Martinez shows up at the Soup Kitchen no matter the weather. Monday through Saturday, even before the sun comes up, she’s there to help prepare the breakfast meal and later, lunch. Because of COVID, meals are served outside and that’s where she works. The current big chill the state’s experiencing won’t change a thing. Neither will Pueblo’s searing summertime heat. Whether—good or bad—is part of the job.
Martinez has long satisfied her time commitment to cut her property taxes but has no plans on leaving the Soup Kitchen. “I could probably do this for a really long time,” said the former prison guard. “It makes me get up in the morning and get out of my house.” The same moti- vation takes her to Pueblo’s Saint Francis Xavier Church, the place where she worships and, yes, volunteers.
Volunteering, lending a hand, she said, is just part of her makeup. She tells the story of how she took care of her mother for a number of years after a stroke. She said she would put her to bed every night and get her up each day; she helped her shower and was there for her mother’s every need. “I always wanted to help,” said Martinez, add- ing, “ever since I was young.”
Martinez speaks in a soft voice and is humble about the generous giving of her time, despite the many times that it might seem to be a thankless undertaking. “People can be rude in any type of service you’re providing. Sometimes you get pushed to a more difficult level.” Other times, she said, there is a quiet ‘thank you.’ But she says, that’s not why she does what she does.
What is important, at least to her, is knowing that each day that she shows up and does her job, she’s helping with something where she’s really needed and helping someone who really needs it. “Most of my clients really don’t talk. There really isn’t a lot of communications. Some are nice, others don’t say anything.” The reward in the work is simple, she said. “It’s kind of what God expects me to do.”
