Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 16, 1992 TAG: 9202160153
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: D-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
TUPPY'S METTLE IS PRECIOUS
Tuppy shifted his weight quickly from foot to foot, rocking back and forth, jabbering, dishing up a running commentary on everything in sight. A great shock of gray hair on his 50-ish head bounced and swayed as Tuppy moved.It was Thursday, over a week ago. Tuppy was at the Reynolds Aluminum recycling center at Shaffers Crossing in Roanoke.
He was waiting for money.
Tuppy and three of his co-workers had hauled 64 pounds of aluminum soft-drink cans to Reynolds from the Association for Retarded Citizens sheltered workshop on Shenandoah Avenue.
June Taylor, who drove Tuppy and his friends to the recycling center, says taking the short van ride to deliver the cans is a coveted job among the 160 clients at the association. Every couple of weeks, she invites four new people to help.
Smiling broadly, Tuppy accepts $14.08. He's entrusted to carry it back to the workshop. The group clambers back into the van and drives off.
Last July, the workshop clients started collecting the aluminum cans. They come from the cafeteria at lunch time, and from a snack truck that visits during breaks. Some bring cans from home, but the workshop doesn't have enough space to store cans from the public.
By Christmas, the group had collected $100. Members met to decide how to spend the money. Lots of suggestions came out, but it came down to a choice between a big pizza party or emergency lights for the windowless bathrooms at the workshop. They debated.
They bought, and paid to install, the emergency lights that would illuminate the rooms during a blackout.
There was no pizza party.
Kim Weaver beckoned the workers to take a break from work to meet Friday afternoon. Slowly, they left the long tables beneath the hanging fluorescent lights where they screw caps onto cosmetic tubes for Elizabeth Arden; or stuff envelopes for mass mailers; or operate the assembly line to slide napkins, plastic spoons, forks, straws, sugar and salt into plastic bags for institutional meals.
Some came to the front of the room in wheelchairs. Some limped or leaned heavily on canes.
Weaver called the meeting to order.
When she told workers that they'd collected 587 pounds of cans since last summer, the group erupted in cheers and applause. They shook hands and laughed, and some slapped their neighbors' backs.
It's an eager bunch, and innocent. Theirs is not a world of car payments and marriage problems, or jockeying with co-workers for the big promotion. For many that day, the biggest and most pressing item at hand was Friday night's Valentine's Day dance.
Weaver says she and the rest of the staff at the workshop are empowering the clients to make their own decisions, and the recycling project has gone better, even, than they'd hoped.
Weaver opened the floor for suggestions for spending the next chunk of money, perhaps in a month or two. She wanted to get some ideas on the table.
The mob jumped to life, hands darted into the air.
Laurie said they ought to pay the rent. Missy suggested a trip to Honolulu, and drew catcalls. Florida. California. Linda recommended the Peaks of Otter.
Members of the crowd were animated, juiced by the idea of spending their own money, by the upcoming dance, by a Friday afternoon.
"We need a jam box," said Carrie, who was sheepish about raising her hand, but bold in her speaking. "For music, when we have parties."
Karen suggested they save until they can build a group home; all the workers can live together. She drew warm applause.
"A basketball," offered Charlie.
Shouted ideas came in from all over the small sea of faces.
"Let's go to the car races," said Deborah.
"Or the Mill Mountain Star, and then the zoo," added April.
Chairs, tables, supplies, a tape player, a Tummyciser.
Arthur made an impassioned plea for a camp-out, sharing images of good old days he remembered.
The brainstorming session sounded like a congressional budget debate. Each bearing a different priority, the workers forged brief coalitions, then dropped them to join another.
They reached no decision, and no one much cared.
In a month or two, they'll be ready to go at it again. And by then, the workshop crowd will have some real money to talk about.
Another hundred bucks.