Pi Day is tomorrow, March 14. That’s pi as in 3.14, the irrational number with an infinite number of digits that never repeat. Used to calculate circumference, it’s represented by the Greek symbol p, and, much to my and other people’s happiness—even those of us who are bad a math—it’s caught on as a day to be celebrated with pie.
Pie, the kind you eat, also serves as a symbol. It represents comfort, love, generosity, and community. Pie brings people together to sit down and talk and share something homemade. This combination of dessert and fellowship is nourishing to the soul and fortifies our relationships.
To celebrate Pi Day, I was planning to take part in some of that food and fellowship and go to what we affectionately refer to as “the church ladies’ lunch” in Donnellson. The lunch, held monthly at the Pilot Grove Community Room from spring through fall, is put on by volunteers to raise money for a local church, though it’s open to anyone. There are always several long tables lined end to end filled with slices of homemade pie. Strawberry rhubarb, lemon meringue, peach, coconut cream, chocolate cream, this smorgasbord of pies is what lures people in, and so they make good money.
The volunteers, mostly ranging from ages 65 to 95, make friendly conversation with everyone as they assemble sandwiches, ladle soup, clear trays, and replenish the slices of pie on the tables. Some pour coffee and hand out bags of potato chips. Conversations around every table between kids, parents, grandparents, bank tellers, farmers, and auto mechanics alike filling the large room with a pleasant hum. People genuinely enjoy themselves, despite the myriad ages as well as myriad beliefs (political and otherwise), and it’s this cheerfulness that gives me hope that our world isn’t as divided as we think it is.
God knows we need more of that hope, which is why I was looking forward to going tomorrow.
I contacted one of the volunteers, Norma, to ask about lunch on Pi Day and the dates for other upcoming lunches and to my surprise—and disappointment—she told me they aren’t having any until this fall. “Nothing in spring? What about summer?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “They’re getting too old and it’s too much work.”
“Aren’t there any younger people who can step up?” I pressed.
“They’re all working.”
Right.
I couldn’t shake the disappointment.
I used to run a pie business, The Pitchfork Pie Stand, and while I wasn’t intending to use volunteers to help run it, people offered because they wanted to be part of something where they could work with their hands, feel useful, and, as a bonus, make new friends. They rolled up their sleeves to roll out dough, peel apples, fold bakery boxes, and more. It was hard work, yes, but there was a camaraderie that you don’t find every day. And ever since I closed my business, I have lamented how I don’t have anything like that in my life anymore, and how I’ve never been able to recreate that kind of community.
Like the community I see at the church ladies’ lunch.
I’ve lived just outside Donnellson for 10 years and it never occurred to me that I could be part of this pie-loving community that already exists. I’ve had many excuses for not volunteering. For one, I am not a member of their church (or any church). I don’t live in town. I’m too busy working. I travel too much. And I already have a lot of friends—even if they are spread out across the globe. But after learning that the church ladies couldn’t keep up with the work, I heard a voice in my head that said, Instead of lamenting the loss, be part of the solution.
I texted Norma again and asked, “What if I help organize the lunches?
She replied that she would check and let me know. Even if the answer is that it’s still too much work for them, I now know I need to break out of my cocoon, get out of the house, and be part of something bigger, to be around people—in real life, not just on the phone or online—even if those people are not all like minded. I need to be part of the change that I, for one, would like to see in the world, which is building more community.
In the meantime, I hope you’ll celebrate pi day by sitting down with others and sharing some pie. Because something as simple as that can make the world infinitely better.
