The people’s refrigerator

“As I See It,” a weekly photo column by Pulitzer Prize winner Stan Grossfeld, brings the stories of New England to Globe readers.

In Harvard Square, the “Fridge in the Square” was started in 2021 by the Harvard Square Business Association during Covid. The refrigerator and pantry are stocked with food and non-perishables from the First Parish Church and numerous other sources. No questions asked. Carol Lewis, Director of Administration, First Parish Church which hosts the fridge, says demand is high. “As soon as we fill it, it’s empty again.” Stan Grossfeld

There’s plenty to growl about these days, with the future of federal food assistance benefits up in the air, thanks to the government shutdown.

Those with hungry stomachs can turn for help to streetside community refrigerators in and around Boston.

There’s the “Fridge in the Square” in Cambridge, the “Dorchester Community Fridge” in Boston and the “Jennifer Coolfridge,” in Brookline, to name a few.

The Harvard Square Business Association started the Cambridge fridge in 2021, embracing the motto “take what you need, leave what you can.”

First Parish Church hosts the fridge and a pantry cupboard outside its building at the corner of Mass. Ave. and Church Street.

Crystal Braun, who has Harvard on her sweat shirt and hunger in her belly, checked out the fridge.

She lost her job at Starbucks afterher third drunken driving offense.

“I was making good money. I was making $23 an hour. And I’m just so disappointed in myself.” Her husband Peter, delivers DriveDash meals by bicycle.

The refrigerator and cupboard help them in a pinch, she says.

Carol Lewis, director of administration at First Parish, says demand is high. “As soon as we fill it, it’s empty again.”

No questions are ever asked here.

“We don’t know what anybody else is living through. We don’t know what the trauma is that has caused them to be unhoused. We don’t know what the trauma is that has caused them to be food insecure,” she says.

Donations come from businesses and individuals.

Last year, the church partnered with Lesley University’s Threshold Support Program for neurodivergent students. They plan a budget, then shop and prepare to-go bags of sandwiches, fruit, cookies, and chips.

For Vinton Frost, who says he’s homeless by choice and has traveled cross country, the handwrittenmessages from the students are even better than the food.

“The kids’ groups write nice messages on the bags like,’ Have a great day,’ ‘hang in there,’ stuff like that. But it’s processed snacky food, like airline food. And so I’m living out of trash cans, basically.”

Kurt K is down on his luck. Out of work.

“I’m struggling right now. I’m sleeping on a friend’s couch.”

He worries about the future.

“The harder time people have getting food, the more crime there’s going to be, and the worse their health is going to be. The hospitals are going to get overrun with unhealthy people. Kids aren’t going to do well in school.”

Sometimes, the refrigerator is stocked, other times it’s empty. One leftover platter of kale proves that it’s the loneliest vegetable. It finally gets tossed.

Minutes later, Cara Presseau of Cambridge arrives with a bag of food from a local restaurant.

“I’ve never been here when somebody wasn’t either putting in or taking out or both,” she says.

She considers the fridge a blessing. “Therefore, by the grace of God, go I, and we, and all of us.”

A young woman with a sparkle on her face grabs some sandwiches. No pictures, please, she says. Too embarrassing.

“You can’t starve in (expletive) Cambridge because we love each other and we take care of each,” she says.

Janice Rocke nabs a box of pasta from the cupboard. It will go with the cheese and tuna fish she has at home.

“I ran out of food because I had no more food stamps left . . . There’s no way people should be hungry. This is America. We need to get it together.”

Catie Wildman of Jamie’s Ice Cream in Cambridge arrives later with fresh bagels, ham and cheese sandwiches, and turkey sandwiches with arugula, sprinkled onion, and pesto mayo.

“I’m worried about the community,” she says. “I’m worried about people being able to eat. People need to donate more food.”

Not every community fridge is so well-stocked, even when run by good-hearted volunteers.

The Dorchester Community Fridge on Claybourne Street is nearly empty, except for some wilted greens.

“I am embarrassed (being here) because it makes me look like I probably don’t even work, “says Chris Ramos, who works as a patient care assistant. His family gets SNAP assistance for his girlfriend and her three kids.

“I pay my rent and help her out so we can make ends meet.”

There’s a van in the parking lot and a buzz of activity, but it’s for cats and dogs getting immunizations. According to Ramos, nothing has arrived today. The last four bananas in the pantry get scooped by a woman who reacts as thoughshe just hit the lottery.

Ramos is angry with the government’s “senseless” ongoing battle in Ukraine and the airstrikes in the Caribbean and Latin America. And the White House and Congress continue to spar over funding SNAP benefits during the shutdown.

“They got money for all that. But for here, they got nothing.”

The rising supermarket prices have him contemplating taking food there as a last resort.

“I’m not going to leave my family down. You got to do what you got to do. My family comes first, bro.”

Over in Brookline, the fridge nicknamed for Boston-born actress Jennifer Coolidge is decorated with handprints of kids.

Elliot Braudis of Brothers & Sisters Co., a cafe on Station Street, loads baked goods, sandwiches, and long crispy baguettes into the fridge and cupboard.

Within five minutes, the food is nearly gone.

The café manager Shaun Bixby says that’s normal. “We put out what we can every day. We partner with other people. But honestly, it’s become a great community resource. There are people who come weekly with whole grocery trips and fill it.

“I think a lot of people think it’s only for someone who’s homeless, but … it’s for everybody.”

Caroline O’Neill, a nanny from Norwood, drops off some jars of baby food.

“My daughter, she doesn’t use those anymore,” O’Neill says. She also sometimes brings fresh fruit and vegetables because supermarket prices are “insane.”

“Me and my husband, we both work full time, and it’s hard,” she says.

She worries about the government shutdown and the millions who depend on assistance.

If she could speak with the president, what would she say?

She smiles.

“Do you want me to say it?” she asks.

https://www.bostonglobe.com/2025/11/03/metro/community-fridge-photos/?event=event12