The topic of hunger, specifically alleviating hunger, has been much on my mind the past 2 days. A colleague told me a story yesterday that got me thinking. Today, my thoughts were further stimulated by a twit-versation involving Heather, D’Arcy, Brian and Alec. I’ll need to leave that particular discussion for another post, after I’ve had time to think about it some more. Right now, I want to write about my colleague’s story and the impression it made on me.
Every year, the school has a food drive at Christmas time to collect food for the local food bank. Students work in groups from different clubs, teams and any others that want to participate. Each group of students gets assigned to a particular part of the city, then goes door to door asking for donations. My colleague’s group was assigned a part of the city that has both well-to-do areas as well as areas with homes that are not as well off financially (not poor, but not having a lot of extra money for unnecessary stuff). One of the students noticed something ironic as they were going door to door. In areas that were less well off financially, they were usually greeted warmly at the door and invited to stand inside out of the cold (it was about -25 C that night). Looking around them, the students noticed that their wasn’t a lot of extra stuff in the houses except for basics like furniture, a TV, a portable stereo, etc. Nonetheless, food was generously donated – people dug deep into their pantries and brought out significant amounts of food.
Sadly, in well off areas, doors were not opened as wide for the students. They were not often invited to step inside while they waited, but students could see that these homes had lots of “stuff” – LCD TV’s, game consoles, home theatre sound systems, etc. Despite this, the donations from these homes were meagre – a few cans of soup or a jar of peanut butter and a box of spaghetti. These are generalizations, but it was clear to students that the houses without much “stuff” gave generously and the houses with lots of “stuff” didn’t feel the need to donate as deeply. I’m sure that people at all the houses cared about donating to the food drive, but some felt a greater need to donate than others.
I have to admit that a tight knot formed at the pit of my stomach as I thought about this story. I am lucky enough to be one of the people with lots of “stuff” that is not a necessity. My wife and I don’t need to check the bank balance before we decide to grocery shop today or wait until after the next payday. Our kitchen and pantry shelves are usually well stocked. We don’t need to skip eating for one day every week so that our kids have enough to eat every day. We don’t tend to buy a lot of extra “stuff” (thankfully my wife restrains me from doing so), but we are able to do things like rent a cabin at the lake every summer. We are very lucky and I try my best to be thankful for that.
I know that others are not so lucky. Some of my students come to school hungry every morning. In some of the families, parents do go without food for a day or skip a meal every day so that their children have more to eat. Some of my students are themselves parents, so they are the ones going without food for the sake of their children. Most families lie between this situation and mine, including some who have a tight budget so that they can get all the food that they need. Consequently they don’t have a lot of “stuff”, but being so close to the line of not having enough to eat, they can see how important it is to share what they can to help out their neighbours who are just across the line. These are the houses that donate generously even though they might not have a lot of “stuff”.
The knot at the pit of my stomach was partly due to the shame I felt at having so much, but not sharing my good fortune. I went to the store last night and bought two flats of soup and a few boxes of spaghetti. The grand total for my generosity was about $23, which is not really a lot of money for me. I’ve spent three times that much taking my family out for a meal. I wanted to do more.
My daughter has choir practice on Wednesday nights. She’s there right now as I am writing this. (That’s another of those extras that we can afford.) After supper, we left early so we could stop by the grocery store. She asked why. I said I wanted to get some more food for the food bank. She asked if she could get a cookie. I said probably not. When we got to the grocery store, I managed to steer her away from the bakery counter. We aimed our shopping cart for the peanut butter. I picked up one jar and put it in the cart. Then I picked up another and another and another. She looked like she was about to giggle. I said “I think that’s enough, don’t you?” She smiled. She looked like she thought it was funny to buy so much peanut butter at once. Maybe it was, but I felt like it was something I needed to do.
We headed to get a flat of canned beans then a flat of canned peaches. As we walked around the store, I was subjected to the usual “Can I have …?” or the more tactful “Dad, come look at this …” I repeatedly said No. As we were heading toward the cashier, she asked again. Once again No, this time followed by “We’re not shopping for food for us. We’re getting some food we can share with our neighbours.” She smiled. That seemed to be a good answer.
We went out to the car and loaded the food. As we loaded the food, she asked me if we could go toy shopping some time. I asked why, expecting her to say “I want …” or “I need …” but she surprised me. She wanted to go to get a toy for school. The school was having a toy drive and she wanted to make sure that we bought something she could share with some other kid. I smiled and told her I thought it was a great idea. Maybe we could go this weekend. She seemed happy about that, and I was happy that she wanted to share some of our “stuff”. I’m hoping that this will be the beginning of her understanding how much we have to be thankful for. That would be the best gift I could give her this Christmas, better than any of the “stuff” I could find in a store.
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Wonderful post — I guess Twitter has its limitations.
I experienced that class/courtesy divide as a paper carrier in Saskatoon more than 25 years ago (yikes!)… For a couple years, I delivered on a route that included Poplar and Saskatchewan Crescents… the other carriers were always very envious, as these were two of the most affluent, most prestigious streets in the city. This was my first route, so I just assumed they were right, that this was the best slot possible.
A couple years later, I took a route closer to home, mostly for convenience, and because I wanted a shorter route (high school was looming). It was a working class area (that’s a euphemism), and I expected my tips would drop. They went up big-time. I remember one family who had to wait until their disability checks would come in before they tipped me (they insisted). And your post prompted this recollection because the most significant difference I noticed was how people would invite me in to warm up on cold days, even having hot chocolate waiting for me sometimes — if this ever happened on the swank streets, I don’t recall it.
I guess I became a pinko-for-life around then…
Again, fine bit of writing, thanks.
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