Kirkcare, Charities and Children

Today I am sore. Yesterday morning I was a parent chaperone to help take my daughter’s fifth grade class to assist Kirkcare, a local organization providing canned goods to area families in need. Many area churches collect for Kirkcare throughout the year, but during November there is a big push for foods for the holidays. My daughter’s school alone collected 4000 cans! We joined volunteers in packing new white boxes with various foodstuffs to be picked up the next day by the families. After the boxes were used up, the remaining food (a lot!) was loaded, using old boxes or cardboard trays, into trucks to be delivered to a central pantry. The fifth graders assisted with filling the boxes and then loading the pickup trucks with the rest of the food. Then we followed the trucks to another church where the pantry was kept and unloaded all, using elevators to bring cartloads down to the basement or walking down two flights of stairs carrying armloads. Even four-year-old Nathan, brother of one of the kids, was happily carrying whatever cans his little self could manage. I have never seen children so happy and eager to do work—and it was HARD work! The kids were sweaty despite the chill in the air and talked about their “rubbery” muscles, yet wanted to stay even later to help unload one more truck on its way in from a school. They had to head back to their own school, though, to catch their lunch hour and get some school work done.

Later that day, when I asked how sore the kids were feeling by the end of school, my daughter commented in a quietly serious voice that she felt good about helping. I was one proud parent. All the kids deserved big hugs for being enthusiastic helpers. There were only three older men unloading, so I don’t know what they would have done without the many strong young arms and legs. They were so thankful.

And so, due to a teacher’s thoughtfulness, a group of youngsters experienced the joy of being useful, the pride of working to provide for those less fortunate. The pain they (and I) feel from worn muscles will be a reminder of a job well done and appreciated. As Mrs. Borman says, you don’t have to look much farther than your backyard to find people who need help. During this season of sharing and caring, perhaps you will find people nearby who could use a helping hand or a cheerful face to brighten their day. Grab the kids, reach out, and share the spirit of the holidays.

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The Gift of Reading

On Sunday, Dec 2, the St. Louis Post Dispatch carried an essay by Ridley Pearson, co-author with Dave Barry of the Peter and the Starcatchers books, about his early memories of reading. It was a beautiful tribute to his father, now ailing from a stroke, who helped instill the love of reading into his sons by often reading at the dinner table a thought-provoking paragraph or two from a book or article. Pearson learned that reading was something that ought to be shared. “Reading is what connects the dots between the forty-somethings and the six-year-olds.”

At bedtime that night, my daughter chose for us to read Cat Heaven and Dog Heaven, the heavenly duo of books by Cynthia Rylant. These favorites of ours remind us of beloved pets we have lost and give us hope that they went to a happy place where we might someday see them again. That night, the reading began a discussion of God and heaven and what we think happens to us after death. We shared a great conversation, listening carefully to each other and asking each other questions. We were connecting the dots between a forty-something and an eleven-year-old, and trying to get to the dot that was God.

Earlier in the evening I had connected dots with my husband and teen daughter using a Post Dispatch article about the definition of rich vs middle-class in the context of adjusting the cap on payroll taxes, from the recent Hilary-Obama debate. That started an interesting discussion in which I certainly learned a few things, not just about definitions but about my husband, my daughter, and even myself.

And so I must agree with Ridley Pearson that reading is an avenue to sharing our thoughts and feelings, of connecting to others. I must also say that this sharing can cause big discussions and so provide an opportunity to learn how to listen to each other, respect each other’s opinions and discuss rather than argue. And that’s a whole ‘nother topic.

PS: According to Edward Wolff, economics professor at New York University, middle class in a big city means income of $40,000-$200,000. To be rich, though, he thinks you must make more than $350,000 per year and have at least $10 million in accumulated wealth. As my husband said, it’s not just income. As I said, wow!

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Charlie Brown Christmas memories

The winter holiday season is here! Been feeling a little behind as so many houses and yards are already dressed for Christmas and I still had the cornstalk and gourds out, but I do love Fall and like to give it and Thanksgiving it’s full due. It is finally really cold here, though, and time to think Christmas. Watched my favorite Charlie Brown Christmas again, this time on TV, which seems to make it more special despite all the ads. Makes me think of when I was a kid and there were no videotapes or DVDs.

I like Charlie Brown Christmas because of the music (we own the soundtrack) and because it carries the Christmas story which I love to hear Linus tell…something about his voice. Once upon a time, I was the Christmas angel at church and gave the same speech, so each year I like to see how much of it I still remember. And, I remember how my sister and I, who many mistook for twins, used to dance in tandem in the living room, imitating the two purple-dressed girl twins. Yes, I love to bask in good old memories.

I’ve just finished reading Christmas at Long Lake, a Childhood Memoir by Rick Skwiot. If you like nostalgia, remembering the mid-1900’s, if you live in the country or in the Midwest especially anywhere near St. Louis, you will love this book! The author tells of his last Christmas living out in the countryside, when his father loses his job and the family’s future is uncertain. Harkening back to his six-year-old life in near blue-collar poverty, Skwiot remembers it to be a kind of Eden where children ran barefoot chasing rabbits through fields, played ice hockey on the frozen lake or hunted crawfish among mossy wet overhangs. Skwiot tells this meandering bittersweet story of life in the “old days” with such beautifully descriptive prose, that I began to remember memories I never had! Guess I love to bask in anybody’s good old memories.

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