Who's a Hero? Who Is?

I am not a hero. I'm not the good person here.

Last year, I wrote about how I (ME, me me me me me me) was greatly afffected by participating in a local charity's Christmas gift program. In fact, I don't think I can write about it any better this year, so I'm just going to re-post it here and now. I'm not even going to link, because while I like you and trust you and all that, I do want you to read it again really and truly. And frankly, I don't spend a lot of time in my own damn archives, so that's saying something.

So here it is:

Layla, You've Got Me On My Knees

The holiday season is upon us, and we've been busy! Busybusybusy. I've had some extra work this past month (and with more to come), some of which I don't think I can talk about yet, and the rest is the usual three days each week at Winkel, plus the other "writing" work. About that - who came up with the idea that a "purchase with purchase" offer is some kind of bonus?! Spend $50 at hoity toity department store on Bloor Street, and you then can buy their special holiday candle for only $20?!! That's a deal?! Should I be thanking someone?! Oh, the sniggering I've been doing about shopping frenzies lately! Snark abounds. And worry abounds. I'm now worried about something.

Because I feel so fortunate to have found some exra income over these past few months, I felt that I needed to show it somehow, and so found a way to do so. Since I'm me, an anonymous donation just won't do. No, I have to go and be Santa Claus.

Nellie's Place, a local charity, tries to find people in the neighbourhood to buy at least three items from a child's letter to Santa, then wraps and gives them to their mothers to present on Christmas Day. This year, all seventy families in need have been taken care of, thanks in part, to me. I phoned as per the article in our local paper, and was given Layla's letter. She's six, and wants a Hillary Duff jacket and boots, Ponie's dolls (sic), a Barbie Dollhouse, and a Hillary Duff necklace and bracelet. The mixed emotions I'm now feeling about having this responsibility are currently consuming my thoughts for a good part of each day. And now I inflict them upon others.

I'm surprised by this - I thought it might be easier. It turns out that being Santa for your own child (who's twenty-one months old and doesn't know squat about Christmas yet) is one thing. Having a stranger's child's Christmas Day depend on you is another. Grappling with the obvious came a little late here, because I was busy being full of myself.

At first I thought, I shall be generous. How great it would be for her to receive everything she hoped for. How exciting and wonderful - dreams coming true! And her name - Layla! Charming!

Then, because I do have some self-awareness, I did realize that if her name was Brittney or Tiffany I'd feel differently about my unknown recipient. The power of a name! The first gift a parent gives to a child - a word that immediately represents an entire being, and that becomes full of that person with time. A word that like it or not, leaves us open to being judged sight unseen, voice unheard and personhood unknown. There I sat - grateful that my assignment had a name I thought was cool - not a conglomeration of vowels like Kaelee or one with which I have horrible associations like Trish.

Because I wasn't over-thinking or pre-judging enough (within two minutes of getting my giftee's letter), and because I like to think of myself as a creative and imaginative person, I looked at her list and thought - "How very commercial are her wants!" (phrased more like, "Crap - she wants stuff that I hate and that reeks of gross consumerism and media manipulation!"). I don't know much about six year olds - and I know nothing about Layla. But in the space of five minutes I've conjured up the poor child of a desperate single mom (who might be a rock and roll groupie who's had a few hard knocks) who hopes for toys and clothes swathed in pink plastic branded names, because that's all she's exposed to in her woeful existence. I'm evil. EVIL.

That's not all - I then started shopping online for Barbie dollhouses, and was blown away by the prices. I want her to have one, because I think with my over-stimulated imagination - what if the person who was responsible for her gifts last year disappointed her, and what if the person who gets her next year doesn't pull through? I must try to be Layla's hero THIS YEAR! She MUST have her Barbie dollhouse! It's meant to be! Hence, my windfall! I've made plans to go to a warehouse sale on Thursday, in hopes that I can find something for her there. My own opinions be damned, I didn't sign up for this thing to push my agenda on a child or her mother. She shall have her things, plebeian as they may seem.

It's important to mention that it's stated by the organizer that you only need to buy three things from the list, that the list is a guideline and that you may not be able to find or give exactly the items mentioned but that you should try your best to choose items as close as possible to what were requested. But when all of those items are products of the ugly world, my choices are limited. Josephine's time will come, and I hope I'll be ready.

I'm an overachiever, and perhaps a little competitive. And I really, really try to keep promises. And I set off to accomplish some of it. Yesterday I bribed Josephine with french fries for some good behaviour, and went to a nearby Zellers for the Duff Stuff. I'd been checking the flyers to see what was advertised, figuring that's where she must have seen the items in order to request them. Clothes, accessories and things which are twice the price of any similar items. Cheaply made, trashily designed and logo-driven crap - every piece of it. Not much of it being promoted in the ads - so I figured I'll just go to the store and look, because if she's a neighbourhood kid, that's where she's seen it. Then I realized, I had a new problem.

The new problem that cropped up was that I watch too much Maury Povich. As if to use a ball peen hammer on my last nerve, guess which episode was on this morning? Oh, you don't watch it? What's wrong with you. Did you know that there are five year olds who weigh 217 lbs. ?!

What size is a six year old these days? The guidelines said to always guess a little big, and to ask an employee for help if needed. Um, hahahaha! Getting help at a Zellers?! So I accosted a mother with a child significantly larger than Josephine - who turned out to be three and a candidate for Maury's show. Seriously - I'm not merely snarking again, her mother sheepishly admitted she's big for her age. Now, Josephine is in the 97th percentile for her age's height and 95th for weight - I know from big. And since I was already cruising down Judgment Lane - let me say this - if you've met me, picture me cut off at the knees, and five months pregnant. So that kid as a reference point was no help at all

In fact, a new fear arose from this encounter. What if Layla is generously proportioned? What if even if I chose larger sizes, she was still in need of clothes from the good old "Husky" department? Body image problems being what they are today - what if "Santa" sent her little ego crashing into the basement because he chose clothes that manufacturers deem appropriate for certain ages even though they in no way match reality? In our own case, Josephine is wearing 2 and 3T sizes! There's proof!

As if in answer to this new dilemma, there were few things in size 7 available. Is this because most six year olds who want Duff Stuff are wearing size 7 and that's why it was all gone? In all probability, it's because Zellers sucks. Perhaps Miss Duff's Stuff ain't all that and so they don't stock it much or advertise it any longer. There just wasn't much there at all, and we used up ten or fifteen precious french fries to find this out. Because I was drunk from a shot of nervous agonizing with an obsessive chaser, I just chose some black sweat pants, a pink top and a pink athletic jacket. All stretchy, all matching, and all in the only sizes I could find - 6X, 6X and 7 respectively. I couldn't find boots. I couldn't find anything else that would qualify as a jacket. And so there, I've failed or succeeded already.

That left time, what with having another twenty french fries left, to realize - Santa would know specifically which clothes, jewellery, ponies and Barbie house she wanted. That man is like a mind-reader or something! I needed to wind it up, becaus I was too quickly realizing what I'd taken on and the french fry supply was rapidly dwindling. I used to complain that if I gave away my trade secrets, it made me less valuable as a professional. Now didn't that come back to take a chunk out of my heiney. Santa can have his job - I don't want it any more. And I'm now re-thinking about how we'll present him to Josie.

I just dove back in and picked out a necklace, and two bracelets. Again not much choice, and not much appropriate for a six-year old. And as a jeweller, it was actually painful to buy the poorly made and designed atrocities. And threw in some lip-balm. And then realized that I'd already spent about $75, even with the clothing at an additional 25% off the clearance prices. I wasn't being cheap - that's where all the clothing was! I thought that the reduction meant I could buy more! I wasn't done yet. I'd thought about choosing a few non-listed things like socks and underwear and small toys to beef up the gift - I had been cruising the colouring book section, and realized that suddenly Barbie activity books are now $6. What has this world come to? The My Little Pony dolls, if I'm guessing that she wants the figures with the manes that can be combed run $10 - $12 each. The Barbie stuff? $20 and up for an activity set (just a roomful of furniture - or a Tiki bar (cool!) that may or may not come with a doll).

There it is - my little act of charity looks like it's going to end up in the $150 - 200 range when I'm done, which isn't horrible, because as I've said, I've been fortunate this year. Steve and I are only buying little things for Josie, because our parents have already spoiled her rotten, her birthday is in February, and our friends and family are generous. She has masses of books, clothes to last until Summer, and our house is small. We just don't need a lot of stuff for her. It's not the dollar amount - it's that I might be buying all of the wrong stuff for Layla, because I don't know her and because the world is too full and not full enough of choices.

Do I expect that she'll be grateful no matter what she receives? Is my ego enough to get me through, or will my insecurity rob me of the pleasure of doing this? The responsibility is surprisingly overwhelming. On Thursday I shall choose a few more things. For a few day's pay, and two weeks of indecision and angst (in the first definition of angst, for once!) - Layla will have, hopefully, a Merry Christmas.

As an early gift, I have already received a new sense of humbleness; and for the New Year, a resolve that in the future, my charitable acts shall include all three definitions:

char·i·ta·ble adj
1. generous to people in need
2. sympathetic, favorable, or tolerant in judging
3. dispensing assistance to needy people by means of a group or organization

Because I am now aware that I am being judged as well, and am dependant on a six-year old's understanding.

(Oh, cripes - and then I DID quote the song.)

Layla Lyrics

(Eric Clapton and Jim Gordon)

What'll you do when you get lonely
And nobody's waiting by your side?
You've been running and hiding much too long.
You know it's just your foolish pride.

[Chorus:]
Layla, you've got me on my knees.
Layla, I'm begging, darling please.
Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind.

I tried to give you consolation
When your old man had let you down.
Like a fool, I fell in love with you,
Turned my whole world upside down.

[Chorus]

Let's make the best of the situation
Before I finally go insane.
Please don't say we'll never find a way
And tell me all my love's in vain.

Okay, you're back? Thanks.


Thanks for reading that.

Since then, in fact this summer at our local wading pool, I ran into a girl named Layla.

I couldn't ask, I couldn't help but wonder, because how many Laylas are there around here? I did and didn't want to know. And yes - she was a "big" girl, and was about the same age as "my" Layla would be. Her younger sister Fatima was lovely too - they both played "mermaids" with Josie and had fun trying to sink a pink rubber ball by sitting on it and thinking they were hiding it from me; and best of all, asking me a million questions. Ones that I had to stop and think about too, dammit. How was it decided how many hours there are in a day? Why did I have nice handwriting? Why was I talking to them so much? It went on for over an hour, and I loved it.

And I judged.

Their mom was sitting off to the side, not gabbing with the other mothers, but reading. Occasionally she'd call out the time, reminding them they'd be leaving at 3:15. The girls were intrigued that I'd leave when Josie told me she wanted to - that we didn't have a schedule that day (hence the discussion about time). While I long for bits of time away from Josie (like today, working at the store, to have time to write and read and talk to adults without interruptions), she was missing some fantastic stuff there! What great girls! How clever, how nice, how open and fun! She should be soaking it up! And then, I reminded myself of that part of the definition of charitable I'd sworn to uphold:

(I feel I need to put it here again. I do.)

char·i·ta·ble adj
1. generous to people in need
2. sympathetic, favorable, or tolerant in judging
3. dispensing assistance to needy people by means of a group or organization

That's it there - number two. Sympathetic, favourable, or tolerant in judging.

I've said elsewhere and at other times that I am in awe of anyone who has it even slightly harder than I do in life. If, indeed, that was "my" Layla and her sister and her mother, and even if they were not, they are not entirely comprised of that moment that I was judging. How often have I been encouraging Josephine to play independently, practicing a form of "benign neglect", in order to buy myself a little time to recharge myself?

And if they were indeed the recipients of the services of Nellie's place, there, for the grace of God, go I.

Because once upon a time, I was a person who left her home with nothing but a suitcase. Alienated from many friends and most of my family, my head sore from making dents in walls and my soul sore from endless humiliations, and my eyes forever opened from staring at the point of a gun as the last straw, I left and came to Toronto.

I was fortunate, and had other help - but I haven't forgotten. And so, when I have the chance to help, somehow it makes me feel better to do so in an almost hand-to-hand combat form of charity. Of course, when I was a child, my mother told me that I should eat my food because children in Africa are starving. What she should have told me, perhaps, is that the lady next door might be someone who is afraid to leave her home because she has nothing of her own and nothing for her children if she does; and that maybe she thinks better to be hurt a little every once in a while because somehow THAT'S easier than any other option. For a while.

I don't know why Layla's mom needed help, and I don't care. I just want to keep helping. So, last year, when I posted this, more than a few people expressed an interest in participating when it came time again. It's time. And I'm hoping a few will step up, but I'm warning you - this is hard.

When it comes down to it, you can do a "feel good" act that does do good, like dropping a new unwrapped toy in a box, which, of course, is a fine way to offer some charity.

But can you imagine - as I once felt for Layla, that not even being able to walk into any store and choose your own damn underwear? Is that not perhaps an one of the most humbling aspects of just plain not having enough money - for a six-year old? What about for an adult?

And as part of it all, people in need, need this: Charity that doesn't make them feel poor.

For Christmas, getting a box with the same winter hat and gloves that hundreds of other kids are getting is one way of branding them the recipients of charity. They need, and should have what they want, what they would choose to buy if they had even half the minimum of what we have.

And so, when I look around, I know it, I feel it and I try to live it when I make choices to buy or not buy - that I am lucky and should be grateful; and anything beyond what we need is luxury, period. When I look around the blogosphere, when I read the papers, one particular discussion from a few months ago still floors me.

The question is not, "if you can buy jeans that are priced at over a hundred dollars for a toddler, should you?" -- it's "how COULD you?". I never want to read about conspicuous parenting again. I want to hear more about conscientious parenting.

Because I should not be proud to attempt to be charitable in every meaning - I should be shamed that it's necessary.

This might seem small. But remember the starfish story? "It matters to this one. And to this one. And to this one..." And I can tell you from my own experience - giving this way is MUCH harder than just buying a new unwrapped toy and dropping it in a toy drive box. Much.

But what I like best about this anonymous act of charity (there is a lot to like!)?

It makes somebody else's mom the hero. Not me. Not a business who benefits from the promotion or tax deductions. It is altruistic. It's also not a get-out-of-guilt free card - it puts a name, age and mind to your charity that will stay with you throughout the year. It will change you.

Here is Gail Prosser's letter. She is the true hero, for all of these women and children.

Become an Anonymous Santa…..

And what an overwhelming response!

The first year we did this for 60 children…last year? 120 children. The numbers for this year will be in shortly. In addition to the 120 children of last year, we managed to put together gift baskets for 25 single women involved with Nellie's. All of this, plus each year turkey and salmon dinner is cooked for 100 people, with all donated foods. It was absolutely amazing and overwhelming.

We ask the children to write a letter to Santa of what their Holiday gift wishes are; their mothers add to it the things that they need! These lists are passed on to me, where I, in turn, pass them on to willing participants.

We ask those who participate to be an Anonymous Santa. You will be given a child's wish list, their gender, and age and clothing sizes.

Purchase a minimum of 3 non-violent gifts, and deliver them back to me, unwrapped. At this point, gifts are wrapped and given to the mothers who give their children the gifts. It's as simple as that.

What sets this holiday drive apart from the others is that the children get exactly what they asked for.

Their brand new winter coats fit them. The toys are child specific. Highlights from last year are: a donated computer to a family of 3 boys who live with their grandmother. A new 61 key keyboard for a 14 year old girl, who found a teacher to give her free piano lessons. There were $13,000 worth of brand new toys and clothes for these women and children last year…and I know this year will be just as successful.

My goal with this drive, besides getting Santa to these homes, is to let these kids know that someone out there loves them and wants them to succeed. I want to do this because I can…I know amazing people like all of you, that help me every year, and encourage your friends to help as well.

Please send this email to everyone you know….Last year it created an incredible response. You never know who is able to help spread the word.

Thank you for your time. I hope all of you will help. Visit www.nellies.org if you would like to learn more about Nellie's.

Let me know if you need anything. I should warn you that I am shameless at this time of year, and will stop at nothing to get toys to these kids!! I promise you this will be the best shopping experience you have ever had.

Sincerely,
Gail Prosser
gailprosser at sympatico dot ca
Coordinator Nellie’s Anonymous Santa Drive


And so, if you're in Toronto, or can help from afar, I am asking you to contact Gail if you think you can do this. I'll never know if you do or don't. I'll just hope.