THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, December 16, 1994 TAG: 9412140199
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 11 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Long : 101 lines
THE FEW COINS she dropped in my red kettle clattered and jangled until they settled on the bottom. I thanked her. Looking straight into my eyes, she said slowly, as if she really meant it, ``You're very welcome.''
I was standing outside the new Big Lots store on Military Highway, going ``undercover'' for three hours last week as a Salvation Army bell ringer. I didn't expect much, either in donations or from the experience itself.
I had imagined myself bundled up against the quietly falling snow, a Norman Rockwell-type bell ringer. Instead, typical of Virginia weather, it was 62 hot degrees and the sun was already glaring in my eyes at 9 a.m. Dressed in black pants, a white blouse and an official Salvation Army badge, I looked the part.
My first donation, which came at 9:10 a.m., was from a kindly gentleman with glasses, who smiled when I said, ``Merry Christmas.''
Donations after that were fairly steady. I didn't tell anybody that I was a reporter until after they donated.
John Edwards, a Chesapeake resident, evoked my curiosity when he dropped a dollar bill in the pot. Before knowing who I was, he had chastised his shopping companion for not putting some cash into the kettle. ``Get over here and put in some money,'' he demanded of his friend.
``Whenever I go into a store, I donate. I think they do good work,'' he said.
It didn't take long for me to notice that the people who didn't give avoided looking at me. They would even go so far as to exit the store from the door farthest from me. They rushed quickly to their cars, faces down, clutching their purchases. Cheap, was my first reaction; they can't even spare a nickel.
But, as the morning stretched on, my attitude changed from anger at them to sadness for them.
A family of five left the store - two parents and three young boys. The oldest child, who was about 7 years old, looked at me and smiled. He stared at me as he tugged on his father's coat, trying desperately to get his attention as the family walked steadily toward the car and away from me.
The father ignored the boy. Now halfway across the parking lot, the boy was still staring at me over his shoulder.
What a wonderful lesson wasted! That father missed a chance to share something more valuable than the presents he carried. He could have taught that child that caring for other people is what Christmas is all about. In actuality, he wouldn't have had to teach the boy anything - that child was already eager to help, desperate to feel that feeling we all get when we give.
I'm not saying that every person who passes by a bell ringer is a bad person. There are bell ringers everywhere at this time of year. Maybe they had already given at another location that day. Or maybe they simply didn't have the extra money to give away. Maybe the money I was collecting would go to help them.
But maybe they were just too busy and couldn't be bothered to stop, put the packages down and fish through their pockets for some change.
One thing I learned from the experience is that I will never pass by a kettle at holiday time, not because of guilt, but because it feels so good to give.
From my perspective on the receiving end, I saw how good it feels. The people who gave me money smiled at me; they stopped and chatted; they said things like, ``Good luck!'' ``Have a great day!'' and ``Merry Christmas!''
They felt good about themselves at Christmastime. Corny as it sounds, they felt the Christmas spirit.
One woman particularly impressed me when, loaded down with a baby carriage, packages and a shopping cart, she stopped to rummage through her purse to find some money. That same woman actually walked her shopping cart back to the front of the store after she had loaded everything into the car. Nice lady.
James Nicholson, a Chesapeake resident, said, ``When I was a kid, my mother and dad depended on the Salvation Army a couple of Christmases during the Depression. Now, me and the wife always donate - every time we see one.''
Nicholson, who is almost 70 years old, vividly remembers the red wagon the Salvation Army brought him all those years ago.
Another woman, a North Carolina resident who drove up to shop at the store, didn't look as if she had any money to spare. Yet she gave a dollar bill to her 4-year-old child and encouraged him to walk up to my kettle and put it in. He was shy and it took some time, but her gentle coaxing worked. She told me that she likes to help those who are less fortunate than herself. I almost started to cry.
Donations came from men and women, young and old. Surprisingly, most of them were dollar bills, not coins. I put that down to inflation.
At noon, my relief came. Earlier in the day I had been embarrassed about ringing the bell, but now I surrendered it reluctantly.
I raised $22.14 in three hours, all of which went to the Salvation Army and ultimately to buy toys and food for the needy.
I have had a rough couple of months and I haven't been in much of a Christmas mood lately. My husband and I have been transferred to Japan for three years and we are scheduled to leave right after the holiday.
With packing up the house, relocating my horse, finishing up at work and planning for the move, there hasn't been much time for decorating the house and shopping for the family I'm so close to. I've been pretty blue this year.
But as I drove away from Big Lots that day, I felt so terrific, so downright proud to have helped for just a few hours.
The Salvation Army helped me this Christmas. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Robyne Cooke
by CNB