I listened to an episode of The Daily today, the podcast of the New York Times. The episode was about how the Coronavirus is impacting black Americans in disproportionate numbers.

While the subject was interesting and valuable, and I recommend you listen to it, the description of the gentleman profiled, Cornell "Dickey" Charles, made me smile. He was an entertainer. Every Sunday after church, their house would fill with friends and relatives, and he would cook for them. No one needed an invitation. If they were hungry, they were welcome. His wife Nicole said he loved nothing more than people enjoying his food.

It reminded me of my college roommate Ann's mom. One Sunday, when we were in college, we picked a random town and decided to go there for Sunday dinner. One problem — it was Sunday in North Carolina in the late ྂs, early ྌs, and the only place open for lunch was the fast-food chain Hardee's. Not what we wanted.

Ann said, "Let's go see Mama." Her parents lived about two hours away from our college.

It was before the time of cell phones. I asked Ann if we needed to find a payphone and call her to make sure it was OK. She laughed and said no. I wondered if there would be enough food for two extra hungry college students. She laughed again. So we proceeded on, me a bit nervous.

When we got there, the house was full of people. We got there just in time to eat. Her mother was thrilled to see us. And yes, there was plenty of food.

We ate and ate. There were several types of meat, lots of vegetables, macaroni and cheese, several kinds of bread, and desserts — tons of good Southern food.

I got a bit worried when her mom said to me, "I love it when someone comes for the first time and really eats." I looked up to see if it was a criticism. No. She really did love that I loved her food. There was joy on her face.

Until shortly before she died, if I was visiting Ann or if Ann would come to visit me, Ann's mom would make fried chicken and potato salad. I can still taste it if I think hard enough.

Then there were those days when I got out of college. My college friend Al lived in a nearby town. I was living on a shoestring. I would get paid every two weeks, and after paying my rent, utilities, and credit cards, I had around $20 for food and gas until the next paycheck. It wasn't enough.

Al kept me fed. Diann worked nights as a nurse, so there were some nights Al had eaten with her earlier. Still, when I got there, he would fix dinner for me. Al jokes he could probably have counted me on a dependent on his taxes. It almost was true. He and Diann shared what they had with me, and loved me besides. Their care took a lot of stress out of my life.

Then there's now. I am a balloonist, and two couples who are balloonists in our county have large properties that are perfect for balloon launches. They are open to balloonists at all times. These also happen to be people who allow us to invade their home for large and small parties. Their homes are places where you know you are wanted and accepted because they know the value of community, and help grow it.

As I think of Dickey Charles and his gift for entertaining, I think of these friends and others who have made my life so much richer because of their hospitable hearts. Entertaining is hard work, and often expensive. Some people seem to make it look effortless and as if they don't notice the vast expenditures for it.

Dickey Charles died from the Coronavirus at age 51. Ann, my former college roommate, lost her mother several years ago. When I think of her, I know her kindness made a big difference in my life. It was more than just the fried chicken and potato salad — it was the love that prepared them. Dickey's friends and family will likely carry that love he dished out for them forever.

In these crazy times, hospitality has had to change, but I have heard of meals and baked goods delivered to porches, and birthday and graduation parades organized, and homeless shelters having meals or desserts provided to them.

Hospitality does not come naturally to all of us, but maybe we should work a bit harder to develop it. The world needs good food and good fellowship, even if now we may have to be creative about how we share it. Hospitable people find a way to get it done. They possess a world-changing gift that is the center of who we are as people. They make us feel valued, for no other reason than that is what they believe is important.