Charity Comes From the Heart
Doesn't it? In that it is a natural urge with many people. Those with inborn compassion. People who are not so self-absorbed as to be selective about their empathy for others. It is inherent to some personalities. Those, I feel, who are themselves loved and cherished. It is these people, secure in themselves and their place in the world who have no hesitation in extending a hand to others.On the other hand, compassion and charity, the two sisters of humanity, can be taught by example, and often are. They are fostered as an integral part of being of and within a community. Bedfellows, the foundation of humanity.
I remember when we were very, very young. First married, proud owners of a small, very basic semi-detached bungalow. Stretching every hard-earned penny to pay for everything we owned. We pooled our meager salaries, and never seemed to have enough. Or, put another way, had just enough to see us through to another payday. That was a half-century ago.
At that time door-to-door canvassing for charitable purposes was completely unknown to me. When the first canvasser explained who she represented, what the purpose of the canvass was, I understood. And I cowered, shame flooded over me, embarrassment, and misery drowned me. I hadn't any money to donate, nothing. There were times when, between us, we shared twenty-five cents and waited for the next day's big event: pay day.
I've been a regular canvasser for door-to-door charitable events for the last thirty years. I find it extremely difficult not to agree to canvass, when I receive those telephone enquiries. I've been on the other end myself, calling one prospect after another, asking, begging for volunteers, and I know how difficult it is. I've never quite reconciled myself to approaching someone's door to introduce myself and the charity I'm representing, to ask whether the homeowner could see his/her way through to donating. It's difficult.
It has to be done. It's the mark of the maturity of a population that its members understand that those who can, support the enterprises which make life palatable for so many among us whose very existence is a daily struggle to persevere. Whether it's for the support of food banks, church groups, medical/health institutions, without community support the quality of life for all becomes diminished.
When I receive a kind reception I'm grateful. When I'm shunned by a dismissive or rude gesture I'm somewhat crestfallen. To hear from some homeowners whose obvious style of living instructs that they can afford to give, that they will not, "this year"; a phrase heard from these particular residents year after year, makes me feel downright disdainful. But you never know; when I began canvassing this street upon which we live fifteen years ago, I was struck by one homeowner who informed me sweetly that her husband was "involved with cancer" but she declined to give. Similarly, some might inform me that their near and dear were close to death from cancer, and they too declined to give. I would try to understand this mindset, but failed each time.
But this same family, the husband of which is "involved with cancer" (he is an oncologist) now gives me $50 when I call, and last night a young man responded by informing me that his father was just diagnosed with fourth-stage lung cancer and he donated $20. Actually, in my neighbourhood $20 appears to be the average, although if and when I receive $5 or even $1 as a donation I'm grateful. A receipt for charitable claims on income tax is issued for all donations.
At one home I stopped at, a townhouse where a young family lives, the parents were sweet, but said they had no money to spare. I recall this family from previous years, when they had given. Modestly, but given nonetheless, what they could, at that particular time. Their 8-year-old son leaped to his feet, said he had something, rushed upstairs and brought down his savings, $2. His parents were proud of him, and little wonder, they had done their job well.
I see many neighbours, canvassing in the spring after a long winter, and they want to visit and talk, and discuss and gossip, so the process can be stretched out. To properly do the street I may have to go out four times, to do call-backs. From long and sorry experience I know the reception I'll receive at some houses whose inhabitants I don't know personally but whose reponse I recall, and I'll leave literature and a mail-in envelope.
There have been some years when I've gone out to this street on four separate occasions, four different months, four different causes, as diverse as Heart and Stroke, Salvation Army, Canadian National Institute for the Blind, Arthritis, Canadian Cancer Society, Diabetes Association, and then I truly hate what I'm doing, because I understand there is such a thing as donor fatigue. For it's not just the door-to-door canvassing that we respond to, but Care Canada, UNICEF, Doctors Without Borders, Oxfam, and many others.
I know I'm judgemental, but then who is perfect? On the other hand, why should I not judge people by the manner in which they react to perfectly reasonable requests to respond to community needs? Those who have two and three vehicles in their drives. Whose backyards are replete with in-ground swimming pools. Those whose pride in their homes is obvious by the manner in which they embellish the exteriors, the painstaking care taken in grooming their manor, who nonetheless see no value in extending toward the community at large a caring hand. I can judge them, why not?
When I'm aware of the personal situation of some neighbours, those whose hold on their homes has become tenuous because of misfortune or a temporary set-back, I withhold my calls, and just skip over. Situations change from year to year, and when matters stabilize I will return to them. Some are happy to give, whatever they can, others are adamant that charity is not their concern; some with scorn or anger in their voices, others cheerily, as though group need has nothing to do with them, despite that they themselves have need from time to time and take what they feel entitled to.
Patience is another virtue. I should cultivate it. Sigh.
posted by Pieface @ Friday, April 28, 2006
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