Yesterday around 4 PM, I headed out for a short walk to Fresh Street Market, my local grocery store. It was one of those ordinary errands — the kind you don’t expect to turn into anything memorable.
On my way there, I noticed a small group of people standing and talking on the sidewalk. Nothing unusual, just neighbours chatting, though there was quite a bit of “stuff” scattered around them. Rather than weave through, I took the staircase beside the sidewalk and carried on.
I didn’t think much of it.
But on my way back, the scene came into focus.
The van was still there, its back hatch wide open. Two women were sitting on the edge, chatting and smiling as people came and went. As I walked past, one of them called out kindly, “Do you need any food?”
I had just picked up what I needed from Fresh Street, so I said, “No, thank you.” But then I glanced inside the van — and that’s when everything clicked.
It was full of food. Good food. Marked‑down items that grocery stores can’t sell once they pass their “best before” date. Perfectly edible, perfectly useful, and too often destined for the dump.
So I asked the question that immediately came to mind: “Did this come from Brad?”
They smiled. “Yes!”
My nephew Brad, along with the Queen Elizabeth Lions Club, spends countless hours collecting food that would otherwise be thrown away. The food bank won’t take it because of the dates — even though “best before” doesn’t mean “bad after.” So these volunteers step in.
They drive to local grocery stores, load up their trucks, and take the food directly into the community.
Churches. Parking lots. Food cupboards around the lower mainland. Wherever people need it.
They have a huge message network: when a load comes in, volunteers are called, and within hours the food is out where it belongs — in people’s kitchens, not in landfills.
I recognized one of the women in the blue top; I’d met her before. She and her partner were planning to stay another 30 minutes in the Fresh Street parking lot before moving on to another location. Everything was free. No questions. No judgment. Just take what you need.
When I first passed by earlier, people were already going through the van, choosing groceries for their families. Working people. Seniors. Anyone who needed a little help.
Brad always says, “Working people are poor.” And he’s right. Seniors on fixed incomes can’t always afford fresh, healthy food. Families with two jobs still struggle to keep up with rising costs. And here are volunteers — unpaid, unseen, uncelebrated — making sure people can eat a proper meal.
Later, I sent a picture to Brad and his wife Maria. Maria replied almost immediately: “I got rid of an entire truck load today in Ladner!”
One truckload. One community. One day.
It’s easy to forget how many people are quietly doing good in the world. No headlines. No speeches. Just compassion in action.
Yesterday’s walk reminded me that kindness doesn’t always look grand. Sometimes it’s a van in a parking lot, a few volunteers in folding chairs, and a simple question offered with dignity:
“Do you need any food?”
