‘No one is left behind’: Clark County couple dish out hot meals, human touch to unhoused

Sandy Curtis and Kalani Moe popped open the hatchback of their car and, in a practiced rhythm, unloaded a canopy, a folding table, and two steaming Crock-Pots.

The rich aroma of lasagna drifted through the chilly air, drawing people from a nearby encampment toward the empty parking lot where Curtis and Moe set up each week. As hungry visitors approached, Curtis and Moe welcomed them like family: “Come eat, sister!” and “You hungry, brother?”

Every Saturday, the married couple serve hot meals to those experiencing homelessness. What started as a small act of kindness last fall has grown into a mission, rooted in something deeply personal.

For years, their son has struggled with homelessness and addiction.

He occasionally stays with his parents, although he often leaves the next day. During one visit, he revealed that staying with his parents was the only time he ever had a hot meal.

Since then, drawing upon their experience as former caterers, Curtis and Moe have made it their mission to ensure no one goes hungry — not their son, nor the others living outside.

“We wanted to be able to feed our son, be able to see him and know that he was OK,” Curtis said. “But then, with a lot of these kids — once we met them — we wondered how they were doing, and we wanted to continue reaching out to them. We want them to know that they’re not forgotten about and that we love them with no conditions, and we’ll be there for them — no matter what.”

Ohana means family

Michael Hibbert looks forward to the meal all week.

“It’s my favorite day,” Hibbert said as he grabbed a to-go box with a generous portion of lasagna and a couple of Rice Krispie treats. “We don’t get a guaranteed meal throughout the week, but we can always count on them to be here every Saturday.”

Curtis said she and Moe initially served 20 people, but that number has grown to 60.

At first, people were hesitant, but now, Curtis and Moe have built strong bonds with most of those they serve. On a recent Saturday, people approached the couple with large smiles, some giving them updates about their life. On warm days, people will grab their meal and sit on the grass with one another, socializing.

“We just kept telling them: ‘We will be here every Saturday around 3 p.m. Come and eat, we will feed you, and if you’re still hungry, come back for seconds. If you want some for a meal tomorrow, that’s OK, too,’” Curtis said. “It’s taken a lot of work to get the trust of some of these people … but I think the kindness really won over their hearts.”

She and Moe serve a hot meal with bread or rolls on the side, along with a homemade dessert. They also pass out jackets and blankets that they purchase or take from their own home.

“Not everyone is out here because they want to be. For me, my rent went up and my check didn’t,” said Rhonda Keith, a former nurse. “But what they’re doing really does help us, because it’s nice to get a warm meal and know that someone is looking out for us.”

Curtis — who is a caregiver and works weekends at a gas station — said she and her husband purchase everything out of pocket. The couple spends the week brainstorming, shopping and preparing the meal they plan to serve that Saturday. They also shop at thrift stores and buy clearance blankets to pass out to people. Even after they’ve handed out meals at their usual spot, the work isn’t over. If there’s food left, they load up the car and drive to different encampments, making sure that no one goes hungry that night.

“In Hawaii, we have a saying: Ohana. It means family and that no one is left behind,” said Moe, who is Hawaiian. “We take that literally. We’re not going to leave anybody behind just because they don’t have a roof over their head.”

But the couple also has bigger dreams. They’re crowdsourcing funds to buy a food truck. The mobile kitchen would enable them to reach even more homeless residents across Vancouver.

Over the years, they’ve realized that a hot meal can only do so much. Curtis has witnessed how people battling substance addiction are often left to fend for themselves, struggling to navigate the maze of housing and health care with little to no support.

“We can bring them a warm meal, but there needs to be more people across the state that are doing this together. People saying, ‘We will meet you halfway. We will come to you. We are here to help,’” Curtis said. “There are a lot of drugs out there, a lot of trauma and a lot of people who have fallen and can’t get back up on their own.”

On a recent Saturday, Curtis and her son shared a quiet, tender hug — a moment of warmth in the middle of an otherwise cold reality. Her son picked up three to-go containers, one for himself and two for neighbors in his encampment who have trouble walking.

Curtis hopes her son will come home one day and that he’ll find his way to recovery. But until then, she meets him where he is — without judgment, just as she does for everyone who lines up for a meal every week.

No matter what, next Saturday, Curtis and Moe will be there.