"Miss Willie's Kitchen" dishes up comfort food for kids who may not get another hot meal that day. But she and the kids face an uncertain future.
By DENISE WATSON BATTS
Published March 26, 2004
WEST TAMPA - Willene Hayward doesn't need the sign hanging in the West Tampa Boys & Girls Club to mark her territory. It reads "Miss Willie's Kitchen," but her booming voice is usually enough.
"Watch that turkey! Watch that turkey!" she said one recent afternoon to a volunteer helping her ladle carved meat, gravy, yellow rice and beans onto an assembly line of plates. Any minute now, the first wave of youngsters would gallop up the stairs, and Hayward - or Miss Willie as the kids call her - wanted to be ready.
"If we run out, I don't know what we're going to do," she added with emphasis.
Another volunteer joked, "Gen. Willie, we need more gravy," and Miss Willie smiled and headed back to her stove to fill the order.
Miss Willie, 58, makes no apologies for being demanding. She prepares hot meals Tuesday through Friday for 60 to 75 children at the club, and that number climbs to more than 100 during the summer. For many, this 3:30 repast is their final meal of the day. Miss Willie takes her job seriously.
"Where is the fork for that plate?" Miss Willie asked minutes later as she poked her head into the dining area where five students were setting tables.
"Do you have enough juices? ... Don't play, watch what you're doing, babe ... "
Miss Willie's job is tedious, especially for a woman who isn't enthralled with cooking. And it's draining, particularly when the children need more than food - a shoulder to cry on, advice, toilet paper because the family can't afford to buy any. But Miss Willie does it all.
"I truly enjoy being here," she said in the soft voice the kids hear when they come to her for a hug. "It's a ministry for me."
Miss Willie grew up in Sumter, S.C., raised on the principles of helping others. Her mother was a nurse and her grandmother watched neighbors' children as their parents went to work.
"I guess since I was the oldest, that maternal instinct kicked in," Miss Willie said. "I just got used to helping out. You were expected to help out."
After graduating from high school, Miss Willie spent a year at college, fell in love and married.
She divorced six years later, then later met her current husband who was in the Air Force. They moved to Tampa when he got stationed at MacDill Air Force Base 23 years ago.
She began working for an electronics company until it downsized and she was laid off in 1997. She read a newspaper article about a woman running a Kids Cafe program for children.
Miss Willie volunteered and began working for the program and four months later was hired by its umbrella organization, the recently renamed America's Second Harvest of Tampa Bay.
Soon, she was asked to set up a Kids Cafe at the West Tampa club. Kids Cafe is one of the nation's largest free meal programs for children. The food bank provides 90 percent of the food for the West Tampa cafe, at discounted prices.
At first, the task was intimidating: How to cook enough chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese to feed a couple of picky platoons. And then making sure the children ate their vegetables and fruit. Miss Willie enlisted volunteers from the Air Force base; from Capital One, which sponsors the cafe; and from other groups.
In the kitchen, Miss Willie works her booming voice but ends her commands with "sweetie" or "dear." She's at home.
"This is a job of the heart, and it's a calling for her," said Wendy Zella, Kids Cafe program coordinator for the Tampa Bay organization.
"They love her and she's part of the staff. She goes beyond the call. If a child says, "I have no school supplies,' Miss Willie finds school supplies. She doesn't have to do that."
Miss Willie developed strict rules: no children in the kitchen, no hats at the table, no profanity anywhere. Children line up behind plates of steaming food and don't dare sit down before Miss Willie calls "Put your hands together." The children clasp their hands and recite grace. One rule that Miss Willie often breaks is that the program is for children 11 and younger.
"I feed them all," she said.
She also keeps stocks of deodorant, toothbrushes and toothpaste. For those most needy, she will allow the children to take leftovers home. If it's something she can't handle, she'll notify administrators at the club. And then she demands that they handle it quickly.
"She's like a god around here," said John Wilds, program director/assistant director for the club. "The kids talk about her. We all get on their nerves but Miss Willie is their mama ... she definitely makes an impact."
Miss Willie feels her work is even more important now as the future of the club hangs in midair.
The club must leave its location on N MacDill for the expansion of Interstate 275 and was scheduled to move to nearby MacFarlane Park. But a legal mixup and community opposition might now prevent the club from moving to the park. Officials fear it might have to leave West Tampa. If it can't find a place in time, it might have to close until space becomes available.
"I can't believe the people want to save trees, but they don't want to save children," Miss Willie said, her tone rising.
"The kids, they're concerned. They're concerned that they won't eat anymore."
Miss Willie will keep on cooking until then. "I know I'm truly touching some lives," she said.
