At the wheel of his Ford F-150, our driver navigates Concord streets with a familiar confidence. Led by both memory and mission, he follows the same route each second and fourth Wednesday of the month, eventually pulling down a wide and quiet residential road and parking along the curb. There’s a chill in the air as he hops into the back seat, double-checks his list, and fills plastic bags with sealed meals from the cooler and hot bags.

Volunteers like Franklin Plummer heft heaping coolers and thermal bags to their vehicles to make their deliveries. photograph by Stacey Van Berkel

For nearly five years, Franklin Plummer has volunteered for Cabarrus Meals on Wheels. Often accompanied by Annie, his 8-year-old Westie, he drives Route 15 to deliver food to a roster of 17 or so residents. In his late 70s, with an easy smile and warm eyes, Plummer tells me he first learned of the program when his best friend began volunteering. About six months before, Plummer’s youngest child, Wade, qualified for Meals on Wheels due to his physical disabilities, and Plummer wanted the chance to bring meals to his son.

Plummer packs three bags, then turns to me. “You ready?” While every delivery day is good, he says this one is particularly special: It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and we’re bringing a holiday meal.

• • •

This is what I was anticipating when, four hours earlier, I found myself in a shiny commercial kitchen trying to be useful as Andy Allen and his team hustled around me. Like any cook does on a food-focused holiday, Allen was eyeing the oven, consulting the thermometer, and watching the timer. But unlike most cooks, Allen wasn’t just preparing one turkey — he was slow-roasting 24. For 400 people.

Just a few feet away, fellow Cabarrus Meals on Wheels staff were at their stations, too. Jerel Campbell was heating up heaps of green beans while Nicole Getsy and Susan Kunder tended to the golden cornbread and cobbler. Soon, steaming-hot sweet potatoes — more than 150 pounds of them — were pulled out of the oven. Allen and Campbell mashed the potatoes, adding butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar before topping the pans with marshmallows. The kitchen smelled like comfort, like holidays, like home.

Andy Allen prepares slow-roasted turkeys for the Thanksgiving food deliveries. photograph by Stacey Van Berkel

The Meals on Wheels menus are set by nutritionists, but as kitchen manager, Allen can zhuzh it up — especially on days like today. “For some people, depending on their situation, this might be the only holiday meal they get,” Allen said. “I take pride in providing that, and I like to make it special for them.”

Allen paused to check the clock. There was still work to be done before the drivers picked up the day’s deliveries. “It’s gravy time!” he called out, and the hustling began again.

• • •

Since 1974, Cabarrus Meals on Wheels has provided a nutritious meal five days a week to homebound seniors and individuals with disabilities. Executive Director Kimberly Strong has been at the nonprofit’s helm for 19 of those years, growing the organization exponentially and navigating its changing needs as it moved from a small Concord restaurant to the large facility it’s in today. And while Meals on Wheels operates in each North Carolina county, Cabarrus is one of just a few in our state that has its own kitchen, meaning that in addition to serving adults, it also prepares hundreds of breakfasts and lunches for schoolchildren through the Head Start program.

Kimberly Strong photograph by Stacey Van Berkel

Strong’s staff arrives at 6 a.m. each weekday to cook and pack this food with care. But their reach wouldn’t be possible without 400-plus rotating volunteers, ranging in age from high school students to folks in their 80s, and including such regulars as the New Gilead Reformed Church congregation and the Rotary Club of Cabarrus County, who have driven consistent routes for 25 and 21 years, respectively.

“Baby Boomers were brought up with the mission of helping their fellow man,” Strong explains. “Our older volunteers will say, ‘There but for the grace of God go I,’ recognizing that everyone is just one crisis away from needing assistance themselves.” She says it’s not uncommon for clients to tell their drivers, “You’ve saved my life.” “And that,” Strong adds, “is why they do it.”

• • •

Route 15’s first street has three clients, one of whom is already waiting on her porch with her dog, Sunshine, when we pull up. Plummer calls out his hellos as he walks with a quick pace up to Janice Cauble’s home.

“Oh, Franklin! I’m so glad to see you,” she replies as he reaches the porch gate and passes off the bags with a handshake and a warm smile. They exchange pleasantries for a few moments, then bid farewell.

“Hope you have a happy holiday. Bless you!” he adds as he heads back down the driveway to grab food for two other neighbors.

“I don’t feel like I’ve made a moment of sacrifice with my time – I do this because I love it,” says Plummer, whose Westie, Annie, joins him. photograph by Stacey Van Berkel

Later on the route, we pull up at the home of Wilma Jackson, where Plummer pulls out a colorful cupcake, flower, and bag of goodies to accompany the meals. He greets Mrs. Jackson with a jolly “happy birthday,” and shares that she had been the organist at his former church, First Baptist in Concord. She marvels at the gesture, seeming surprised to be remembered.

But none of this surprises Plummer. He knows which clients will be sitting by the door and which ones will just wave from the window. He knows who is going through a hard time, be it sadness or sickness, and who is certain to perk up from a quick visit. The familiarity of this route — the homes, the residents, their pets, and their preferences — is something that is built over time. It’s earned with each delivery, year after year.

As we drive Route 15 for two touching hours, Plummer explains that he has lived in Concord since the late 1970s and worked as a trial attorney for 50 years.

“Before I retired, I assumed I’d get back to my golf game,” he says with a chuckle. “But I’m doing what I enjoy, and that’s doing things for other people.”

It’s fulfilling, yes. It’s also healing.

Meals packed into thermal bags are distributed by volunteers to 30 routes throughout town.  photograph by Stacey Van Berkel

Before long, Route 15 takes us by Wade’s house. While Plummer delivered meals to his son for six months, today he simply slows a bit, turning his head to send a gentle nod or kiss toward the home. It’s been three years since Wade, who had severe bone degeneration, died unexpectedly at age 42. And yet Plummer never questioned whether he’d continue delivering. It keeps him connected to his son, he says, but also to the rest of Route 15.

“Concord has about 100,000 people, but in this neighborhood — the older part — people know me, and people need me.”

• • •

Just blocks away from his own home, which he shares with his wife and more than 70 stunning rose bushes, Plummer pulls into the driveway at Mildred Watts’s residence. Through church and their neighborhood, the Plummer and Watts families have known each other for nearly five decades.

It doesn’t usually work this way. Most of the time, Meals on Wheels routes are run by volunteers who deliver to strangers. But here, at this modest brick ranch, Plummer not only delivers meals, he also leans on their shared history — one of social events and board games, but also one of children with disabilities, great loss, and recent illness.

Do you need a ride to the dentist?
Remember that one time … ?
Can I take you to the funeral on Sunday?
We’re praying for you.

Plummer hands a meal to his longtime friend Mildred Watts. In addition to a hot meal, Plummer delivers a moment of connection to his neighbors in need. photograph by Stacey Van Berkel

As Plummer speaks, Watts slowly nods along. She has very few words today, as recent strokes have limited her communication. My eyes drift up the wall to a framed needlepoint quote that looks like it’s been hanging for ages:

Be not simply good, be good for something.

When we get back into the truck, we’re both quiet for a moment before Plummer turns, looks me in the eyes, and breaks the silence with what I’d been mulling over: “You can see why I get more out of this than they do.” Indeed.

We take what feels like a collective breath, and then, once again, he reaches up, starts the engine, and we complete Route 15.

• • •

The next afternoon my big, boisterous family gathers for Thanksgiving at my home in Winston-Salem. More than a dozen of us hug and catch up. We add the extra leaf to the dining room table. We fill glasses full and plates high.

There’s food to spare and plenty of cheer here, but as we hold hands and say grace, my thoughts are on my new friends in Cabarrus County. I think of Andy and Jerel, of Kimberly, of Susan and Nicole. I most certainly think of Mr. Plummer — and know that we’re both thinking of those with a quieter holiday: of Mrs. Cauble, Mrs. Jackson, Mrs. Watts, and the rest of Route 15.

It’s all good — and it’s all good for something. Thank goodness.

Learn more about Cabarrus Meals on Wheels at cabarrusmow.org. To volunteer for Meals on Wheels in your community, visit mealsonwheelsamerica.org/volunteer.