Red Kettle, Jamestown, NC
There are now over one million charitable organizations in
this country and it seems most of them have my telephone number soliciting
donations. But there’s a wide disparity
in how much of the money they raise actually goes to the intended recipients
that are in need. The Salvation Army is
one of those which does a good job and consequently our adult Sunday School class
volunteers to ring the red kettle bells every year outside a local grocery
store. This Saturday was our day to ring
and I had volunteered to take the last shift after sunset so that I could experience
the rapidly dropping December temperatures and see that the gathered monies
were securely placed in an official truck.
I always depart the scene after removing my red apron with the sound of
that signature and sometimes insidious little bell ringing in my head for days,
however!
No matter what the experience, I enjoy observing human
behavior and the species never disappoints.
It always restores my faith when I see a loving mother guiding her child
to the red kettle with a coin in hand and a smile on both of their faces as the
child places their donation into the kettle slot. I suspect that there are some that will
actually be the recipients of this bounty on Christmas day. Then there are those who purposely will not
make eye contact as they rush past the kettle into the sanctuary of the store. A young lady asked if I was cold as she
donated a bill and I replied that “watching folks like her give to others
always warms my heart.” She gave me a
hug.
One man with his wife approached me and asked if I would
give him a receipt if he wrote a check.
I assured him that a copy of the cancelled check from his bank would
suffice, so he considered it and then put a check of an unknown amount into the
red kettle. Another fellow walked past
with a container in hand, hesitated, and then returned. He stated that he was bringing all of his loose
change to the store to run through a coin machine, but instead decided to
funnel all of it into my red kettle, which must have added a couple of pounds
to the mother lode. The coins actually
helped to compress down all of the bills at this late hour of the day. No matter how much money was donated,
however, I always watched people walk away from the little magic red kettle
with an elevated spirit and an extra lift in their step as I wished them a
Merry Christmas, raising my spirit as well.
As my shift was nearing the bewitching hour, a dark BMW
sedan driven by a middle age woman pulled up in the fire lane and blocked me
and my red kettle from the parking lot.
I had witnessed this at the other end of the store as folks had a spouse
roll out the door and load groceries instead of simply wheeling them out into
the lot. I probably shouldn’t have been
making a snap judgement, especially these days, but I was getting a bit
irritated with the woman as I assumed her husband would soon roll out and further
block my sacrosanct space. Then she
exited the car, walked up to me, stuffed a wad of bills into the little red
kettle and drove off as I meekly wished her a Merry Christmas and softly
whispered about twenty-five hail Mary’s in repentance, even though I’m not
Catholic.
