the death of charity within me

it's taken me a long time to understand that questioning something and chastising it are often perceived as the same action.

lyds donated money to both the obama campaign and npr this year, and each time i wondered aloud why she did so. not that i didn't feel the causes worthy, it's just that for some time, giving has been something i rarely do. until recently, i never sat down to examine why. i cannot say i am either proud or ashamed of this mindset, it simply is what it is.

my initial flirtation with offering aid began in college. one day, without reason, i got a bug in my butt to volunteer at a soup kitchen. i made a few phone calls--this was back in the dark ages, before a google search could net you 10,000 hits in .23 seconds--and found a location in a church several miles from my apartment, one in a seedy milwaukee neighborhood. the shelter gave meals daily, so i simply showed up unannounced one evening. the hall was like any old-school rectory basement; spacious, and able to fit several rows of school-style picnic tables at a length of about ten deep. overall, a couple hundred people could eat simultaneously with enough elbowroom to be comfortable.

i wandered around looking for someone in charge and was brushed off several times by disinterested people, until i finally came upon a cluster of people with a bit of authority. i asked what i could do to help, and was met with an odd mix of suspicion and hostility. i was thrown, but after a few moments spent assuring everyone i was simply there to do what i was told, i was given the glorious honor of wiping down tables after people finished eating, that the next wave of needy could fill their tummies.

a line would begin to form about an hour before service, and i was warned not to hang out outside, as stabbings, muggings and other fun activities took place beyond god's walls. when the doors opened, an interesting influx of arrivals would enter, and even on my first night i could tell who was who. those new to the game had down turned heads and slumping body posture in embarrassment of their need. those who had surpassed this stage walked in with simple acceptance; they were hungry, this is what they had to do, and there was no shame in it. the final ingredient in the blend the actors. usually young men, they walked in with a swagger and sunglasses, dressed like they didn't need the food and making a show of their favor to the church in eating it. the ethnic mix was divided down easy lines; most volunteers were white, most recipients were black. my first couple weeks in, i wondered if this played into the attitudes and slight if not outright contempt many workers had for the diners.

wiping tables was by no means interesting, rewarding or fun, but i began a weekly pattern of riding my bike into the ghetto and doing what i could for those in need of human assistance. i didn't do it for bragging rights, karma or acknowledgement, i only volunteered because it seemed like the thing to do. i had the time, charity doesn't happen by accident and it seemed more productive than playing tetris, my common pastime. over the course of a year, my attitude did begin a shift into negative territory. while i never looked forward to going in, neither did i ever resent it. but toward the end, i did start to feel a hesitation.

when you spend time in any one area of life, you become aware of little nuances that make up the whole of a setting. cracks begin to shine through the foundation you once saw as solid. everything you witnessed but didn't notice initially stands out, and this takes place in jobs, relationships or friendships. after a year, instead of seeing simple need, i saw waste. people would go down the food line taking heaps of everything offered, then sit, eat the dessert and throw all else away. this action was far from rare, it was widely practiced. i began to get irritated by it; the idea people couldn't simply say "not interested" to whatever they weren't going to eat anyway offended me, especially when i noticed the families acting with complete disregard for instilling a sense of value in their children. to not clean your own plate is one thing, but to raise a child under the banner that waste, let alone waste of auspice, is acceptable? i began to understand why my fellow volunteers were embittered. before i could reach their level of apathy or anger, i bowed out. one week i didn't feel like volunteering, so i didn't go. and then i never went back again.

i still had the sense to act in a positive manner in me, though, and gestated a bit over my next move. such meditation eventually ended in deciding to adopt a third-world child in need. i researched a few outfits, centered on one and contacted away. forms were filed, choices were made and before long i was writing to (and sending checks for) a young boy in latin america. thanks to the simpsons, my friends and i diminished my kindness by referring to him as "pepe." but i was still happy to be doing my small part to combat the problems of a destitute nation. i wrote my little "dear ndugu" notes well ahead of the reference just made, and though i tried to be simple and straightforward in my letters--"i hope you are well, i hope your family is well"--i'm sure they were as foreign to my ward as those written by nicholson. i received pictures and crayola drawings in return, hung a few on the old fridge and filed others away in a folder i bought for correspondence.

the particular organization i went through had a graduation age for adoptees, and when it was reached i'd receive a packet of choices for my next child. in my years as a member, i believe i helped three children on three continents--south america, africa and asia--reach maturity, but as with the food pantry, i began becoming irritated by patterns i had dismissed early on. every new packet i received came with the same basic description, "(name) is the youngest of six/eight/ten children, living in abject poverty and in desperate need..." and i would read and wince. six children? eight children. ten fucking children? if these people are living in abject poverty, why the fuck are they continually squirting out more mouths they can't feed? because they need farm hands? because so few will eventually survive? sorry, that's shit logic and works against basic intuition regardless of education or economic standing. yes, once again, my ego got in the way of compassion and i had to opt out of adopting a fourth child before becoming even more of a fuck of a human being than i already felt like.

it was now the late 1990's and i was performing stand up comedy, so several of us decided to throw shows for charity. we would set everything up, practice our craft, and pass the door's take to a different foundation every time. many organizations were kind and giving, both putting out the word to supporters of their cause and appreciative of the money we gave. but an odd, or maybe understandable parallel between the size of the institution and their kindness (or lack of it) soon became apparent. when local groups were promoted, they were the most open and appreciative to our help. the larger the system, naturally, the more the red tape and less support there was.

my first (and worst) experience came at the hands of the make a wish foundation. a local dj heard of our shows, and having an interest in both comedy and the causes we supported, invited me to appear on air to promote the event. sadly, he wasn't aware of my ever-present ignorance when it comes to inappropriate behavior. simply put, i find very few subjects to be taboo in life, and things that somehow make others wince make me giggle. maybe i'm wired wrong, but when i got on the radio this was the exchange heard throughout the metropolis of milwaukee:

bryan erwin, dj: "i've got local comedian nathan timmel in the studio with me, he's part of a group of comics running "comedy for charity" down at stooges comedy club. every week they throw a show and donate the money to a worthy cause. nathan, why don't you tell us about this week's show and charity?"

me, idiot: "thanks bryan. this week we're donating to the very popular make a wish foundation. if you're not familiar, this is a great organization that allows terminally ill children the chance to do something they've always wanted to but never had the chance to, such as visit disneyworld, swim with the dolphins, or have their first homosexual experience."

bryan cut my mic and immediately went to commercial. he didn't exactly chastise me, but did explain that there was a difference between pushing the envelope and going too far, and for radio, that was definitely going too far.

and he was right.

the next morning my phone rang and the anything but lovely head of either the wisconsin (or milwaukee, i'm not quite sure which) branch of the foundation started shouting at me before i could barely say hello.

"how could you say that? did you think that was funny? how could you suggest that we could do such a thing for a child, or that a child would ever..."

what? be a homosexual?

i rarely show restraint in life when confronted with ignorance, but bryan had shown me great kindness and instead of blasting the woman, i apologized. the foundation had recently undergone a massive public relations disaster for supporting the dying wish of a child wanting to hunt and kill a bear (because i suppose sometimes when you're at your end you don't become enlightened to the idea of life being precious and simply want to take it from other creatures because as it was unfair to you, hey, fuck everyone and everything) and was widely rumored to have purchased prostitutes for children who wanted to lose their virginity. i absolutely wanted to hammer back at this ignorant cunt who was angry with me for suggesting a child would actually be--*gasp*--gay, but i tried, and failed, to keep bryan out of the mess i caused. bryan was eventually fired and i received legal notice to never promote anything even remotely involving the make a wish fucks ever again. as if i would want to.

oddly enough, bryan and i became close friends, and a big, blowout charity show was planned. bryan came from the world of bands and music, had connections, and a theater show was to be our grand farewell from the world of comedy and charity. after slight deliberations, the so-we-thought excellent habitat for humanity organization was green lit for fund reception. putting the cart before the horse, we printed posters, placards and got everything in place... and then contacted habitat for humanity. while kind, they claimed that their modus operandi was to remain inconspicuous. they didn't want to "get in anyone's face" with what they did. they appreciated the money, but weren't interested in either setting up a display at the event, or even sending anyone down to collect the money. they couldn't wait to get the check in the mail, but i don't remember being thanked by anyone i talked to. though feeling slighted, with everything already printed we had no choice but to go ahead with the plan and created what eventually turned out to be a standing room only crowd for an organization who wanted nothing to do with us. i will grant that it was our fault for not checking in with them before deciding to support their cause, but it still felt like a slight.

after that i pretty much ended my kind ways. i still donate food to pantries, but even that has become the occasional afterthought, like grabbing a canned item to place in a bin seen when entering the grocery store. lyds reminded me that this year i bought mosquito netting to combat malaria in africa, but that gesture was defeated by my complaining when lyds attempted to donate to npr a second time; "but i gave to the tribesmen this year..." as if giving was something to mark off a to do list but once.

charity should be like an apology; you don't give an apology to hear one in return, you offer supplication for reasons within you. when it comes to my period of giving, though i never did it for karma, thanks or even recognition, over a decade's time, desire to aid was removed from me. i could espouse bullshit about how governments could end all suffering if they would focus on it, but that doesn't forgive me my complacency or my questioning of lyds when she acts in a manner much more compassionately than i do.

today i find it hard supporting much of anything outside of systems involved with helping animals. maybe lyds can wring the old me back out of my current shell, or maybe i'll just donate more to the humane society and groups that focus on furry creatures.

how mother theresa managed to live among people perpetuating their own problem is beyond me.

sainthood truly is for the christ-like among us, and i have never claimed to be a decent human being.