(I needed to write 750 words to finish a publication I’m working on today. Instead, I wrote these 1,000 words…)
Yesterday, my husband, daughter, and I stopped at a Ruby Tuesdays in Summerville, SC to eat dinner. (Thanks for the suggestions, friend who lives in Summerville. We decided we didn’t want to wade any farther down Main Street!) We were on our way home from Charleston, where the army band played a concert on the USS Yorktown. It was rainy, and there was a ton of traffic. We stopped to avoid the traffic. Scott was in uniform.
A woman, probably in her late fifties, who had been sitting at a table adjacent to ours, approached Scott and introduced herself, thanked him for his service, and handed him a gift card to pay for his dinner. Scott replied by saying that he was proud and honored to serve, thanked her, and tried to refuse the gift. (Honestly, I don’t know if there’s a protocol, field manual, army regulation for this kind of stuff. We’ve been approached and thanked before, but not quite in this way.) When he is approached by strangers, Scott is always really good—humble, kind, respectful—I don’t actually have the right words to describe his behavior during these exchanges, but I feel like Scott always exudes just the right amount of humility, engagement, etc. I know he feels awkward, but he’s sincere in his responses. I just feel uncomfortable and tongue-tied.
We volunteered for the military, and while we believe service members deserve our deepest respect, we remember that we chose this, have been treated well by the military, etc. We also remember that there are public servants—police officers, firefighters, social workers, teachers, and countless others—who serve our nation as well and often go unsung. In fact, we know, as I’m sure you do, that everyone is fighting his or her own battle, and that most people we meet deserves our respect and admiration. So, we feel awkward, but also awed by people who thank us in words or actions.
Our bill didn’t nearly approach the amount of the gift card, and when Scott was “paying” the bill, he asked me “What to leave?” The answer to that question was easy: leave it all, pay it forward, it’s not OUR money. Someone was kind to us; we should be kind to someone else in return.
But it wasn’t our money, and while it WAS kind to leave a very generous tip, the experience we had yesterday reminded me that we are in a good place and could do more.
Yesterday, I posted a link to a project my sister is trying to get support for through Donor’s Choose (Here’s the link: http://www.donorschoose.org/donors/proposal.html?id=552364), and I jokingly wrote, “In case I have any rich philanthropic friends.” I clicked on her project this morning to learn that my amazing and kind friend donated money to my sister’s project. I was deeply touched by this gesture. (I realize I am an intensely sentimental person—and I believe that sentimental identification is a productive way to understand the world. I also understand that historically sentimentalism has enabled a sort of distanced ambivalence and we should all be a little suspect of any sort of congratulating ourselves for “feeling good.”)
In fact, I have lots of friends who are doing a lot of good with their money and their time—a friend who’s made it her mission to foster dogs in response to a horrible situation at a local shelter, friends who spend their time collecting canned goods, donating blood, and volunteering at churches, friends who donate their hard earned money to various community organizations. There’s a lot of good out there despite what your favorite news source might be telling you.
My friends are in much the same situation I imagine myself in. We are comfortable. We aren’t rich, and that’s where the greater lesson becomes obvious. We don’t need to be “rich philanthropists” to positively affect our worlds. I realize this isn’t much of a revelation for probably everyone out there, but it’s something I keep forgetting. And I think now more than ever before in my adult life time, we need to recognize that every little bit helps. Not to sound like one of those children’s network commercials, but for the cost of a cup of coffee, for the cost of the Netflix increase, you and I can help someone else out.
So, please let me tell you about my sister. She teaches fourth grade in an elementary school in Richmond, VA. She paid for college herself. She has not had a raise since she started working there. She pays for supplies for her classroom herself. What she pays for classroom supplies throughout a school year greatly exceeds the $250 federal tax credit given to teachers. She started her school’s cheerleading squad, which she coaches. She drives her students home when their parents can’t or won’t. She takes her students to dinner; she takes them out in their communities. She goes above and beyond. In fact, my sister sounds like A LOT of teachers I know. If it hadn't been for a few of my teachers in elementary school, middle school, high school, and college, I probably wouldn't be writing this. I hope you have a few teachers you remember too.
Her school sounds like a lot of schools we know; most of us live within a stone’s throw of schools where students come from poor socio-economic backgrounds, are ill-prepared for education, etc. I don’t believe that throwing money at problems is a solution; I do believe that good teachers know what their students need, and in most schools, they aren’t getting those things. And I believe that those of us who are in a situation to help have resources, like DonorsChoose.org, that can empower us to choose how we’ll help others.
If you don’t want to support educational projects, there are lots of people, animals, groups, and environments, that need your time, expertise, and/or money (volunteermatch.org and serve.gov are useful sites).
Thank you to my friend and to the stranger in Summerville for reminding me that I belong to this world and am responsible for it.
Yesterday, my husband, daughter, and I stopped at a Ruby Tuesdays in Summerville, SC to eat dinner. (Thanks for the suggestions, friend who lives in Summerville. We decided we didn’t want to wade any farther down Main Street!) We were on our way home from Charleston, where the army band played a concert on the USS Yorktown. It was rainy, and there was a ton of traffic. We stopped to avoid the traffic. Scott was in uniform.
A woman, probably in her late fifties, who had been sitting at a table adjacent to ours, approached Scott and introduced herself, thanked him for his service, and handed him a gift card to pay for his dinner. Scott replied by saying that he was proud and honored to serve, thanked her, and tried to refuse the gift. (Honestly, I don’t know if there’s a protocol, field manual, army regulation for this kind of stuff. We’ve been approached and thanked before, but not quite in this way.) When he is approached by strangers, Scott is always really good—humble, kind, respectful—I don’t actually have the right words to describe his behavior during these exchanges, but I feel like Scott always exudes just the right amount of humility, engagement, etc. I know he feels awkward, but he’s sincere in his responses. I just feel uncomfortable and tongue-tied.
We volunteered for the military, and while we believe service members deserve our deepest respect, we remember that we chose this, have been treated well by the military, etc. We also remember that there are public servants—police officers, firefighters, social workers, teachers, and countless others—who serve our nation as well and often go unsung. In fact, we know, as I’m sure you do, that everyone is fighting his or her own battle, and that most people we meet deserves our respect and admiration. So, we feel awkward, but also awed by people who thank us in words or actions.
Our bill didn’t nearly approach the amount of the gift card, and when Scott was “paying” the bill, he asked me “What to leave?” The answer to that question was easy: leave it all, pay it forward, it’s not OUR money. Someone was kind to us; we should be kind to someone else in return.
But it wasn’t our money, and while it WAS kind to leave a very generous tip, the experience we had yesterday reminded me that we are in a good place and could do more.
Yesterday, I posted a link to a project my sister is trying to get support for through Donor’s Choose (Here’s the link: http://www.donorschoose.org/donors/proposal.html?id=552364), and I jokingly wrote, “In case I have any rich philanthropic friends.” I clicked on her project this morning to learn that my amazing and kind friend donated money to my sister’s project. I was deeply touched by this gesture. (I realize I am an intensely sentimental person—and I believe that sentimental identification is a productive way to understand the world. I also understand that historically sentimentalism has enabled a sort of distanced ambivalence and we should all be a little suspect of any sort of congratulating ourselves for “feeling good.”)
In fact, I have lots of friends who are doing a lot of good with their money and their time—a friend who’s made it her mission to foster dogs in response to a horrible situation at a local shelter, friends who spend their time collecting canned goods, donating blood, and volunteering at churches, friends who donate their hard earned money to various community organizations. There’s a lot of good out there despite what your favorite news source might be telling you.
My friends are in much the same situation I imagine myself in. We are comfortable. We aren’t rich, and that’s where the greater lesson becomes obvious. We don’t need to be “rich philanthropists” to positively affect our worlds. I realize this isn’t much of a revelation for probably everyone out there, but it’s something I keep forgetting. And I think now more than ever before in my adult life time, we need to recognize that every little bit helps. Not to sound like one of those children’s network commercials, but for the cost of a cup of coffee, for the cost of the Netflix increase, you and I can help someone else out.
So, please let me tell you about my sister. She teaches fourth grade in an elementary school in Richmond, VA. She paid for college herself. She has not had a raise since she started working there. She pays for supplies for her classroom herself. What she pays for classroom supplies throughout a school year greatly exceeds the $250 federal tax credit given to teachers. She started her school’s cheerleading squad, which she coaches. She drives her students home when their parents can’t or won’t. She takes her students to dinner; she takes them out in their communities. She goes above and beyond. In fact, my sister sounds like A LOT of teachers I know. If it hadn't been for a few of my teachers in elementary school, middle school, high school, and college, I probably wouldn't be writing this. I hope you have a few teachers you remember too.
Her school sounds like a lot of schools we know; most of us live within a stone’s throw of schools where students come from poor socio-economic backgrounds, are ill-prepared for education, etc. I don’t believe that throwing money at problems is a solution; I do believe that good teachers know what their students need, and in most schools, they aren’t getting those things. And I believe that those of us who are in a situation to help have resources, like DonorsChoose.org, that can empower us to choose how we’ll help others.
If you don’t want to support educational projects, there are lots of people, animals, groups, and environments, that need your time, expertise, and/or money (volunteermatch.org and serve.gov are useful sites).
Thank you to my friend and to the stranger in Summerville for reminding me that I belong to this world and am responsible for it.
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