Not long ago, someone who visited one of our Monday night dinners offered a piece of feedback I have been thinking about ever since.
They had heard about Banff Food and Friends through their daughter, who attends regularly and finds real joy in it. But their comment surprised me. In their words, community dinners like ours were meant for people experiencing homelessness. What caught them off guard was the crowd: so many young people, especially those just in town for the season. They asked, genuinely and not unkindly, whether those people truly belonged. "If they are just passing through," they said, "they should not expect the comforts of home, like a warm, home-cooked meal."
I have thought a lot about that moment. Not because it was cruel. It was not. It was honest. And that is what makes it worth engaging. Because beneath the question is a deeper one. Who do we believe deserves care? Who belongs at our table?
To begin, it helps to remember where we are.
Banff is beautiful. That much is obvious. But it is also a difficult place to live. According to the Town of Banff’s 2023 Community Social Assessment, the cost of living is the single greatest challenge residents face. The report names it plainly. Food insecurity, housing instability, and social isolation are woven into everyday life for many who live here.¹
Those realities are not hypothetical. They show up in staff housing and overpriced groceries. They show up in the young people living four to a bedroom. They show up in men who have no one to talk to. They show up in visitors who come looking for work and find something else entirely: exhaustion, disorientation, loneliness.
In a town like Banff, the line between being settled and being transient is blurrier than we like to admit. Most of us are passing through. Some just stay longer than others.
This is where the work of feeding people becomes something more than logistics.
The Bow Valley Food Alliance, in its Imagining Food in Banff report, names this clearly. Community meals are not only about nutrition. They are about presence. They are about gathering in a place where no one asks for proof that you belong. They are about reminding people that they are not invisible.²
As one local put it, "We all gather around food."
That is the phrase I keep returning to.
We gather.
Because even in a transient town, what people long for most is not just calories. It is connection.
I have heard this firsthand. A young woman told me she came to Monday dinner because she needed a meal. She kept coming back because of the kindness. Another said that Monday nights are the only time of the week she and her friends know where they will be. Seated around a long table. Served by strangers who have begun to feel like family.
And that is what we are really offering.
Not just food, but friendship. Not just nourishment, but welcome. Banff Food and Friends exists to feed people in every sense: body, heart, and soul.
So yes, we welcome everyone.
Locals and newcomers. Seasonal workers, hospitality staff, those just figuring out what’s next. No one should have to prove their worth to be fed. No one should be lonely in a room full of people.
If you have ever wondered who these dinners are for, the answer is simple.
They are for anyone who needs them.
Sources