Posted on 01/06/2005 4:16:18 PM PST by 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.
Somehow, somebody at our church figured out what was going on and came through with a gift card from the local supermarket chain. I had no hesitation whatsoever about accepting it, and did so joyfully and gratefully. I wasn't resentful, since (a) this situation was not my doing, so the guilt that often causes resentment was not present, and (b) the donors said that the best way I could express my gratitude was to pass the blessing along to others, which I have always tried to do in the ten years since then.
Today it's a good feeling to help others in the way I was helped. I feel very sorry for the doctor and his son, who were only trying to improve matters for those whom they believed were the deserving poor. Doubtless they could see why this woman was in such financial straits--it is often a very bad attitude that keeps people in conditions of what, in America, passes for poverty.
If the rich doctor's name was Howard Dean she might have been more willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Obviously the moral of this story is that receiving "charity" from private (dare I say, even faith-based) organizations is much too degrading for the average down-on-their-luck American. It is so much more humanistic to provide for them by taxing their fellow citizens and sending them to drab & dreary government welfare offices where they'll be treated like they -- and thousands of others in line around them -- deserve to be treated.
Fortunately, enough other people voted for George Bush that he won anyway.
Charmie's benefactor may have been trying to teach his son compassion, too.
The woman is a professional writer. My suspicion is that she signed up for the charity, and went through with the charade, to have something snide to write about. She was looking for a "story" and she got it - and it was a very convenient way to introduce some Bush bashing.
Sorry, I can't see it.
Unless I were far away and they needed something and had to borrow until I returned.
Accepting hand-me-downs from neighbors...I don't consider that charity.
But food on the table...thats MY job. Period. A LITTLE hunger never killed anyone--in fact, it's a great teacher.
Anyone have her number? I want to ask her for $160. I will be very grateful.
http://www.annarborisoverrated.com/scgi-bin/mt-somethingelse.cgi?entry_id=408
Hello
this is the Current Columnist referred to in the May 28 update
Interestingly, that bitch of a woman lived in the dirt in Dexter, not in Ann Arbor. Which makes me even more sick to my stomach. She was trying so hard to be like the snooty assholes in Ann Arbor. I guess it's the effert that matters, aye?
By the way, I am now the official enemy of snooty white rich assholes in Ann ARbor. Last night I was humiliated at Top Of the Park by the usualy suspects, 50 something elitists all in their uniforms of big flowered shirts and khaki pants, for the last time. After trying to be friendly and recieving only disapproving glares, I'm working on an essay about my experiences there. I just moved to Depot Town in Ypsi after 20 years as an Ann Arbor resident and I"ll never go back. Not until those f*ckers are gone.
Love,
Charmie
Posted by Charmie Gholson at July 4, 2004 02:40 PM
(I added the * in place of the u, that Charmie wrote)
How is it cheaper to have a cell phone than a land line? Where I live, I can have a land line allowing me 30 phone calls/mo. of unlimited duration for about $15.
I can get cell phone service like Tracfone, for about $10/mo., but that limits me to about 20 mins. of calls.
Neither one gives me caller id or anything fancy like answering service, but if I was as poor as this woman presents herself, I would have the basic land line.
can't find michigan vehicle code
My son was givin a "fix it ticket" for altered suspension on his low rider. The Michigan Vehicle Code # is 257.710C but I can't find it anywhere on the net, the exact law that is.
HE called the court, they told him to take off whatever he has put onto his car ($5,000 of equipment and three weeks of work), show it to a police officer and then have the officer sign it.
IT seems to me that plenty of vehicles have altered suspension. How bout those trucks jacked up so high with big tires? They could run a small child right over and never even know it. It feels like this law is applied discriminatly but I can't find the actual wording. Help!
You want a really *GOOD* feeling about charity? Do what my wife and I do. About two weeks before school starts, drop by your junior high school with gift cards from WalMart and Old Navy. It doesn't have to be much.We spend $100.00. Ask the guidance counselors if they "know of a family who could use some help?" We live in a middle class township with good schools, but there's always somebody in need of help. We never know who benefits from the gift cards. The conselor's "thank you" card is enough notice that our gift has reached its target. As I tell 'em "Its hard enough being a teenager without showing up in last year's T-shirt".
What a great idea. Thanks for sharing!
Me either. She has a cell phone and can't afford to buy her son a new pair of shoes?
Unflipping real.
She goes begging to strangers for $80?
I hope Jack learned this lesson - even in America, those who proudly proclaim themselves the poorest are still better off than anybody else in the world.
From some of the early posts, it would seem she's an operative for Moveon.org
I grew up in Ann Arbor, and I know of the Meijer store where she likely went. I also know of a shop called The Tree, in Kerrytown near downtown Ann Arbor, which sells perfectly good clothing for a buck or two per piece.
Maybe they're short on children's clothing there...
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