Charity Display? (I never felt like the face of poverty — until I met my benefactor.)

New York Times ^ | January 2, 2005 | CHARMIE GHOLSON

[nickcarraway]

I didn't recognize the cellphone on caller ID but answered anyway. A man started talking about a local charity. ''Look,'' I interrupted, ''I don't have any money to give you. My husband left me. I've got two little kids, and I'm behind on the rent.''

He quickly clarified that he wasn't calling for a donation but to help. He said he was a doctor and a volunteer for an organization called Warm the Children, and I had signed up for help at my son's school. He offered to give me $80 for each of my children to buy clothes. All I had to do was meet him at Meijer -- a local, family-owned superstore -- to do the shopping. I was shoving pants onto my son Gabriel, who never wants to get dressed, so it took a minute to comprehend: Could it be true?

The doctor mentioned filling out forms. While I imagined letting a stranger pay for our clothes, Gabriel took off his pants and ran away. Did I really want a handout? Should I endure a bit of humiliation to provide some essentials for my kids? I felt as if I had no choice. Sammy, my 7-year-old, had outgrown his shoes.

The night before we were to meet, the kids were with their dad, so I went to the store to shop, making sure to stay within the allotted amount. Then, I found a manager. We put a note on the clothes and left it behind the customer-service counter. I was hoping this would expedite the process and minimize my contact with the doctor: here we go, hey, thanks, goodbye.

In the morning I dressed the kids in clean clothes. (There, I thought, we don't look poor.) On the way to Meijer, the boys jumped in puddles, soaking themselves to the waist. With mud.

The lady behind the service counter couldn't find my basket but had a good idea where it went. ''There's an Asian woman who doesn't speak English,'' she said. ''I bet she put it all back.'' I ran around the store grabbing snow boots, dress shirts and socks I chose the night before.

While we waited by the entrance, my littlest guy climbed out of the cart and started hopping up and down while watching himself on a security monitor. I knew this dance; it meant I had about 10 minutes before he had a meltdown. I thought about leaving; maybe my father would give me more money. But then I saw Sammy, who never complains, just sitting bleary-eyed in the cart, tolerating his boredom.

When the doctor arrived, he looked as kind and reassuring as he sounded on the phone. He greeted me and introduced a lanky teenager: ''This is my son, Jack.'' He didn't tell Jack my name or introduce my kids. I shook Jack's hand before he retreated a safe distance behind his father, eyeballing my kids and me. I could not imagine why the doctor brought him along.

Once we were in line, I tried to keep the kids quiet; the doctor smiled and blinked at me. I talked nonstop, peppering Jack with polite questions: ''What school do you go to? Do you play sports?'' He gazed at the ground in my general direction. Occasionally he spat out a one-word answer. This stage of growing up is so awkward. I wondered who had it worse that morning, Jack or I.

The doctor showed me the forms we had to fill out. By mistake, he also handed me a set of instructions for how to facilitate this ''encounter.'' At the top, it said: ''DO NOT OFFER TRANSPORTATION TO THE CLIENTS.'' I looked at him in disbelief and repeated it aloud. Do not offer transportation to the clients? The doctor just shrugged. I couldn't tell if he was as embarrassed as I was, or if he had any idea how hard it was to accept charity.

Our cashier didn't know how to process my forms. After the manager showed her how, I realized I'd overshot my limit, so the cashier called the manager back for an override. The line behind us had grown long with frustrated shoppers, all of whom I assumed intended to pay for their purchases. Everyone stood in an uncomfortable silence -- except my boys, who pestered me for some water and got way too close to the doctor. I fantasized about adopting a hillbilly accent and shouting, ''Now you kids shut up er Santa ain't coming!'' Finally we were done. Gabriel was clinging to me and chanting, ''I want a drink.'' The doctor and his son said goodbye and hightailed it out of there.

Back at home, a friend called. I couldn't shake the feeling that the doctor used me as an example. ''For what?'' she asked when I told her. ''I'm not even sure,'' I said. To make his son grateful? To put a face on poverty? Realistically, the doctor could have just been on his way to drop his son somewhere, but now I was angry. At my soon-to-be ex-husband. At the polarized society we live in where the working poor voted themselves into deeper poverty while the rich still coast. Despite the doctor's best intentions, I felt scrutinized -- especially with his son there to witness my inability to buy my own kids their damn socks.

''You are under an incredible amount of stress,'' my friend insisted. ''I hardly remember most of my divorce.''

With luck, neither will I.

Charmie Gholson is the host of a public-affairs radio show, ''Renegade Solutions,'' and a writer in Ann Arbor, Mich.

[Max Combined]

"He didn't tell Jack my name or introduce my kids."

Maybe he didn't remember your name. You could have introduced yourself and your kids to Jack, instead of feeling insulted.

[nickcarraway]

A friend of mine is a recruiter, but also makes good money as a pet sitter. One couple that she has been pet-sitting for for a long time owed her a tiday sum of money. When she called up to get the money last fall, the wife kept telling her, they "were too busy registering new Democrat voters to pay her." To this day they have not so much as called her.

[Emmett McCarthy]

I remember hearing calls from the "poor" on C-Span years ago decrying the cruel rich Republicans. Calls to C-Span are NOT toll free calls and, of course, you can only get C-Span is you're paying for cable. And, of course, they can wait on "hold" since they're not in a hurry to get to work.

I feel soooo sorry for them all.

[AggieCPA]

I agree. I have NEVER heard of such a convoluted distribution of aid.

[syriacus]

Good idea to google her.

Charmie Gholson lives in Ann Arbor and has waited tables, helped women give birth, produced Public Radio, provided unsolicited nutritional counseling and choreographed a dance called "Cow Burp". Now, she writes a food column for Current Magazine, reviews events and authors features for the Ann Arbor Observer. She can't believe people pay her to give her opinion. She is the oldest of three daughters and the mother of three sons, none of which like her cooking. Some day she will live in Key West and write a book. Maybe several. She hates broccoli but eats everything else.

[Max Combined]

Charmie says “THE ONLY BUSH I TRUST IS MY OWN”

http://annarboralive.com/Charmie.html

Charming, I am sure.

[El Gato]

The word "ingrate" is floating through my mind.

Whiner also comes to mind.

[syriacus]

I think her feelings of resentment towards her benefactor may have been the result of the humiliation she felt in not being able to provide for her kids.

You are very understanding.

On the other hand, the author seems to lack the understanding that benefactors are only human, too.

[ShowMeMom]

Having been a single mother of two boys, this offends me on too many levels to list here, but "it takes a village comes to mind".

The sadest thing about her sob story is that her boys will grow up to mooch off my boys because that is what they are being TRAINED to. In fact, it appears that is the only thing that they are being taught.

[Congressman Billybob]

Your guess was right on the money. I did Google this "lady" and here's part of what cropped up:

"Charmie's 40th Birthday and Bush Bash: Lick Bush '04" Thursday, July 29, 7pm-1am

WCBN-FM "Renegade Solutions" host Charmie Gholson, also a writer for Current and the Observer, celebrates her birthday with a fund-raiser for MoveOn.org.

Includes a buffet dinner, a kissing booth, a Bush pinata, a chance to have your photo taken with a facsimile of the president, a raffle of donated items by local businesses and national celebrities, and live music by local bands.

The musical lineup: Rootstand blends bluegrass, blues, reggae, and Celtic folk idioms and instrumentation. Whit Hill is a multitalented local performance artist (aka Whitley Setrakian), who writes richly imaginative country-folk originals that are often spiked with her offbeat sense of humor. Eric Kelly writes raw, Dylanesque folk-style songs.

Also, the I-Had-to-Beg-Them-to-Do-It-Kazoo-Ensemble performs "The Star-Spangled Banner" and other patriotic and quasipatriotic songs.

www.A3Radio.com will record this event and re-broadcast it. Watch our website for dates/times.

In short, this "lady" is a leftist, feminist, politically correct, welfare fraud, whom the New York Times accepted at face value because she was "one of us." A fraudulent writer in a fraudulent newspaper for the amusement of readers who are fraudulent sophisticates. How appropriate.

Congressman Billybob

Click for latest, "Lessons from Waves of Disaster"

[sockmonkey]

Hey girl! Funny seeing you here after running into you today!

Do check out the link on post #47.

BTW, LP, did you have the creme brulee for dessert? I love their creme brulee...with the creme fraiche squiggled on the side, with the strawberries... Oh, I just like everything on their menu, and everything in the bakery, too.

[Capriole]

I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for this woman, but in a lot of jurisdictions having a cell phone for phone service is a lot cheaper than having a landline, and caller ID service is included at no extra charge. That's the case with my own cell-phone package. But the author appears oblivious to the inconsistency she is presenting by talking about her cell phone.

[frgoff]

---
I honestly would die before I'd accept charity, even (especially) from a family member. Unless one of my children was in dire, dire straights. But then I'm a man. Maybe some women are more prone to accept "gifts". But then, maybe they should get married to a proud man.
---

And as a man, your calling is to provide for your family. A real man would set aside his ego and accept charity if that is what he had to do to provide for his family.

It's hard. I've done it, and it's hard, but the welfare of my family comes before my ego. You just make the commitment to be generous when your fortune turns and you can give instead of having to receive.

[avg_freeper]

I've been in the position of this doctor in the charity work I perform. You have no idea how frightening it has been on a very few occasions.

There are rules like, "don't give the client transportation" and only provide the monetary assistance previously agreed on. These rules exist for at least two reasons. #1 Your life can be put in danger if you stray from them. #2 Some people see each gift of charity as a door to ask for more.

More often than not the people are polite and obviously thankful putting me at ease. But a few are brash and try to get you to go out on a limb. I try to provide comfort to the people I assist both materially and spiritually regardless and I don't judge them. I'm doing it as much for them as to glorify god.

As for the teenager, did it ever occur to the woman that he was trying to teach the kid a lesson about charity and self sacrifice.

[Publius6961]

Second post in as many days remarkably similar.
Single mom, can't pay rent, charity blah blah blah.

Sorry, I'm impervious to it.
This woman made some bad choices, is offered help (God knows why) and doesn't have the grace and class (class is independent of poverty status, in fact, these days it seems inversely proportional) to simply accept, rejoice and somehow conjure up a token gesture of gratitude, perhaps even a smile?

[singlemomofone]

Is it just me, or is anyone else suspicious of a women with two kids who gets as much publicity as she does...yet she needs $80.00 charity? I doubt she is lacking in income, with her "credentials."

Me thinks she set the whole thing up because she's run out of true and factual issues to whine about.

[syriacus]

A fraudulent writer in a fraudulent newspaper for the amusement of readers who are fraudulent sophisticates

Good summary.

She should write a cookbook, and call it "Pablum for liberals."

[Altamira]

"$6 will buy you a new pair of kid's jeans on sale at any discount store."

And it will go farther at Goodwill or any other store that sells used clothing. Being "poor" is about not making the right choices, and not so much about not having enough money, I believe.