WOW i started reading this post and i admit, MAYBE ts was seeking some sense of self-gratification, but that is true by anyone that does anything for others. I remeber an episode of freinds (didnt watch it much, but this one was histerical so i still remeber it) where Phoebe and Joey are arguin over whether there is anything such as a selfless good deed. Thier conclusion as well as mine is no, there isnt. Even if ur gratification only comes from feeling good about yourself. But so wat? he has a right too. It was a good post, with a good idea behind it. To that *** hat drac, WOW. Yeah, it's self gratification. I got a tear in my dumb old redneck eye when I read those letters. I do feel good when I find someone who can use something, most especially if it would otherwise be wasted. I can't take care of the world, but I can do something.
Until you've actually seen someone who is starving, up close and personal like, you can't grasp that it happens here in the land of infinite obesity. At least I know it didn't kick in for me until I saw it.
I grew up on a farm, and we were poor. Not no-electricity poor, or choose-between-medicine-and-food poor. Not even there's-no-way-you-can-even-consider-college poor. Just we-don't-have-any-money-to-spend-on-that poor. My mother is a nurse and it was basically her salary that kept the monthly bills paid for most of my younger life. My old man was busting his hump working daylight til past dark and doing great if he broke even at the end of the year. He never gave up, though. One of the great things about living on a farm, is that no matter how 'poor' you are, there's always food to be had. It may not be what you like, or what you want, but it's there and you can eat it.
When I was 24, I was trying desperately to sell a load of cantaloupes. For those that don't know, once you've picked a load, you've usually got no more than 2-3 days to sell them to a store/produce hauler before you can start looking for some hogs to feed them to.
The Farmer's Market was saturated with melons and no buyers. Cordele, GA calls itself the watermelon capital of the world and claims that more melons move through their market than any other (I dunno, just repeating the claim.) The town is tiny, just a wide spot in I75, really. Well, after seeing about 200 loads identical to mine and only about 3 guys looking to buy, I decided to seek an alternative method of selling. I decided to piece out the load.
Normally, 'breaking' a load is a bad idea. If you sell half of the load, many buyers look at the remainder askance, as if you're trying to sell the dregs to them. In some cases, this is even true, so they're justified in their thinking. But, as I mentioned already, I was desperate. I headed to the Walmart parking lot....
Walmart (sadly enough) has the most traffic of any place in that town. I set up at the deserted end of the parking lot, which also happens to be where the main drive enters and exits. No signs or anything, just a pickup truck loaded with cantaloupes. I wanted to sell, but there were signs posted indicating that I shouldn't, and after all I was selling the
exact same product they carry in their store.
But, people, in their ever-present desire to get a better price, inevitably began to come to see me. In about an hour, I sold 3/4 of the load and had more cash in my money bag than I could have hoped to get for the whole load at the market. And no angry store manager had called the cops on me.
Then I saw this guy come walking out from behind the dumpster over behind Golden Corral. He was older, maybe late 50s, early 60s, but I couldn't really tell how old. He was shambling, not walking. You could see every bone he had, right beneath the skin. He had a couple of belongings rolled up in an old shirt he was using for a bag. He shuffled past where I was and I just stood there and stared. What I disctincly recall, even better than his face (it was extremely wrinkled, but his head looked like a skin and hair covered skull, otherwise) was that at the time, I felt a burning shame at his condition. I thought, "How could we let this happen?"
Prior to this, I'd called myself poor, when I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and regular meals. This guy wished he was poor. That would have been a step up. I 'know' all of the regular indigents in Cordele. Whether they use it or not, every one of them has a place to go, no matter how humble. Crack is the prevailing influencing factor in many of their lives. There's even one old crazy guy who camps all the time even though he has a quite nice house; he's just whacky. This guy, however, was transient, not a regular.
After he passed me, he turned and came back. He asked if he could buy one of my melons. I never found out if he had money or not, because I grabbed one and just handed it him. I told him not to worry about money, to just enjoy the melon. I don't care if he had all of Bill Gates' money in his pocket, I wouldn't have been able to force myself to take it. Some things will always be taboo to me, and taking money for food from a starving person is one of them. Probably something in my upbringing.
He thanked me profusely, which only served to make me feel even worse about his condition, then shuffled off and found a shady spot to eat. When next I saw him, he was putting the rinds in the trash. I have never before or since seen a rind eaten so thoroughly all the way to the skin. There was literally nothing left but the skin.
Torn by extreme social guilt, I went to him and pressed two more melons on him.
I was in the truck getting my money bag when my brother stopped me. To this day, I can't decide whether he appealed to my senses or simply browbeat me into submission, but I zipped the bag up, packed up shop and went home.
I never saw the old starving man again. I looked several times around town, but nothing.
He didn't do or say anything dramatic or special. I don't know what his name was. We passed fewer than 20 words, total. Nevertheless, he made an impact on me. I'll never be able to wipe out what I felt that day.
I'm never down and out, because I've seen down and out.
I don't whine that things aren't fair, because I know they aren't fair, and I've got it better than a lot of others.
I always give something. I'm far from rich, but I can afford to give. It makes me feel good to know it actually helps.
I'm not really trying to defend my motivations. I just don't mind sharing my experience to explain. Whatever your motivation for giving is, it's the act that counts. You can sit there feeling sorry for someone for years and if you DO nothing for them then that is the net total of what you've done for them: nothing. If you don't really give a da[i][/i]mn and send off a 10k check just because it's tax deductible, you still gave 10k.