He had started collecting his change in the cans years ago when he volunteered on the Board of his local Red Cross.  The can was one simple way he could support his Red Cross.  He never missed the loose change, but it added up quickly and when a can was full he would turn it in and get another one.  Many of his belongings did not survive the fire that ripped through his home that December afternoon, but the can did.  And even now that almost everything is gone and he must start over, he gave the can to the Red Cross.

He is no stranger to the Red Cross.  He has been a volunteer, a blood donor and a client.  His son is a Marine serving in Afghanistan and he has turned to the Red Cross to send emergency messages before.  No message was sent about the fire. He doesn’t want to worry his son. He wants to tell him face to face the next time he sees him.

I stopped by his office to see him and to give him a few things donated by friends.  I wished him Happy Birthday.  His birthday was the day I visited him, four days after the fire.  He seemed to be in shock but doing well considering what he’d been through.  He was grateful for the support he received and unsure what he will need going forward.  I tell him I will check back with him and for him to let me know how he is doing.

Next Saturday he calls.  He asks me a few questions and tells me how things are going. He says he owes me a thank you note. Then he tells me about the can.  I tell him he doesn’t owe me a note and he doesn’t have to turn in the donation can considering all that he has lost, but he insists he wants to turn it in.  I tell him I will stop by and see him Monday.  When I stop by I find out he was not feeling well and left work early. The can is waiting for me at the front desk with a note of thanks.

I get in the car and place the can on the seat.  I drive to my next appointment.  I can’t stop looking at the can. I take a picture of  it with my phone. I keep thinking of the donor and his family. I begin to weep.  Eventually, I make it back to my office. It is late and no one is there. I put the can on the corner of my desk.  I need to take it to the bank when it opens and have the machine count the change so I can deposit it and give the donor a total. He always likes to know how much change is in the cans he turns in.

I will open the can and take it to the bank, but unlike other cans I open, I won’t throw this one away even though it can’t be re-used.  This one I will keep on my desk. People will no doubt ask me why I keep a dirty, charred donation can on my desk and I will tell them.  I will tell them about the donor, the volunteer, the giver of blood, the father of the Marine and the disaster survivor who while sifting through the ashes of his home was thinking about helping the Red Cross be there for the next family in need.

For two years in a row we have had extreme cold, rain and wind. Last year we even had snow in March in Alabama!  I am beginning to wonder what I did to offend the Man Upstairs.  This year we added a dinner and auction the night before, which did wonderfully, but left me questioning our reason when I got home at 1 am and had to get up to go to the airport at 4 am. (Yes, I just stayed up.)

Anyway, in the dark I made my way toward the airport in the cold rain.  We set up in the cold rain and before the gates opened we made the decision to let everyone in for free, just so the pilots and food vendors would have the hope of some visitors.  Normally we see a crowd of about 10,000 and they stay all day.  We even extended our hours this year to take advantage of Daylight Savings Time. This year we are lucky if 1,500 came out and if they even stayed an hour.  Needless to say, I was feeling down.

But something happened on that cold, rainy day at the airport.  Something to warm the heart of even the most exhausted Red Cross worker.  People came out anyway.  They were happy and said positive things. They made donations that far outweighed the ticket price they would have paid at the gate. And they told stories. Stories of hope and how the American Red Cross had impacted their lives.

Friday night we were joined by Lt. Colonel Harold Decker, 91, a WWII P-38 pilot and former Prisoner of War.  Decker had taken a fall and just hours before was in the local emergency room.  He did not let that stop him from joining the American Red Cross.  Decker testified in a video made for our local chapter that the American Red Cross saved his life while he was a P.O.W. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for the Red Cross”, Decker said.

On Saturday I had the privilege to speak to several more Veterans. I should have known that this “Greatest Generation” would not let a little bad weather stop them from turning out. I spoke to Tom Eden, Sr. who embraced the day and the volunteer acting as his escort. He eagerly told me of his love for the Red Cross and how when he was at war he never felt alone…because he had the Red Cross there with him. In fact I was a little uncomfortable as Mr. Eden lavished compliments on me for the work I do with with the Red Cross. I mean he is a Hero, a living legend, and my accomplishments are very small in comparision.  But he went on praising the work of everyone on our team, volunteers and staff alike.  He made light of the weather and told me how he looks forward to the fly-in each year and will attend as long as he is able.  In that moment I had a change in perspective.  This event is not about me, or the Red Cross, or even about raising the money (though we desperately need the funds!). It is about community and bringing everyone together.  It is about our military and our Veterans and the celebration of aviation history. It is about connecting generations and realizing that the Red Cross will be there for every generation, past, present and future.

Later I met Mr. Webb.  He was on the far south end of the airport looking at the Navy and Marine helicopters when I asked him if he would like a ride in my golf cart. He accepted and said it was about time he headed home.  Mr. Webb was not put out by the weather. He explained that he had just moved to Alabama from up north and his daughter had registered him for the fly-in.  This was his first year to attend and he was enjoying himself.  As we rode along in the cart I kept asking him where I should let him out. “Just a little farther,” Mr. Webb replied and we rode on.  We chatted and rode, farther and farther. As we passed the Veteran’s Parking I asked again if this was his stop.  “No, I am a little farther down,” Webb replied. 

Finally we came to the point farthest north on the airport and there alone was his car.  “Did you walk all that way?” I asked in disbelief.  He said, “Yes, it’s OK, I walk every day.”  “ Thank you for the ride little lady and the conversation, I’ll be back next year”, he said and with a wave he was gone.  I sat in my cart watching him, half making sure his car would start and he would get on his way OK, but half trying to believe what I was seeing. An elderly man, in the rain and the cold, walking all over the airport as if it was the warmest spring day and he was decades younger.  I felt ashamed of the bad attitude I had let creep in earlier.  But my shame soon gave way to admiration for all of our Veterans, and I went on.

I waved to Mr. Webb, turned and sped away with my spirit renewed.  Off to the next adventure and to see what other Heroes were waiting around the bend. And proud. Proud to be a part of The American Red Cross.

If you live under a rock, the current economic state of our nation may have eluded you, but most of us are feeling the full force of it. Those of us in non-profit industries are feeling it two-fold.  Donations are down, but demand for services is up. 

As the economy gets worse, more and more families find they can’t make ends meet and they are turning to community organizations for the basics, such as food, clothing and help with monthly bills. The drop in donations makes it harder than ever for agencies to help the growing number of people at their door.  Yet for the donor that wants to help, sometimes they just don’t have the extra income to continue with charitable donations.  This creates a vicious cycle, one that we must find a way to break.

This is why we must do what we can to take care of our families but also include our “community family”, neighbors we may never meet, as well.  We have to think of new and creative ways to help when we can no longer just write a check.  Here are some ideas:

1. Don’t overlook the value of volunteering. Most agencies have a small staff and every hour you volunteer is an hour they don’t have to pay someone to do that task. If you don’t have a dime to spare, consider giving the gift of your time.
2. If you normally give $100 a year and you can’t write that check now, can you give $10 a month?  That is the cost of one lunch out and if you do it, it would actually increase your annual gift by $20.
3. Can you take out an inexpensive insurance policy and name your favorite charity as the beneficiary?  This will cost you a small premium now, but could be a lasting legacy to the organization you love long after you are gone.
4. Can you set up a monthly bank draft to a charity or have it direct debited from your pay check?  This way you don’t have to write out a separate check and the gift is automatic and relatively painless. 
5. Keep a jar in your office or bedroom and deposit spare change in it each day. Encourage family members and co-workers to do this with you.  When the jar gets full, bring it to your favorite charity.
6. Do you have stocks and are considering selling due to the market? Why not donate your stock to charity?  You get a tax deduction and the charity gets a gift.
7. If you are writing a will or doing estate planning, considering your favorite charity and make plans for a bequest or planned gift.
8. Are you having a birthday soon, but you really don’t need another scarf or tie? Consider asking your friends to make a gift to your favorite charity instead.
9. Got lots of clutter in your life? Think about having a yard sale or selling things online and donating proceeds to charity.
10. When you make your gift, check and see if your employer has a program to match it.  That makes your gift twice as large!

I thought of those ideas in just a few minutes.  I bet you can think of more.  Let’s work together to make sure everyone is taken care of in tough times. 

Editorial Note: I know the “1″ is missing from #10. It shows up in my version, but for some reason it gets dropped when I hit “publish”. This irks the perfectionist in me, so I just had to make sure you knew it is not a typo!

Monday he was out of school as his teachers were having an in-service.  So, I took off work and we spent the day together.  I kind of made him do school work. He is studying government and he didn’t do well on his first test, mainly because he never told me he had a test and didn’t bring his book home, so we didn’t study.  Well, feeling guilty for dropping the ball on that, I decided on his day off, we would go to City Hall and learn first hand about City Government.

The Mayor of Auburn, AL was good enough to schedule an appointment with us and to my surprise, Austin was very excited about meeeting him.  The Mayor showed us his office, explained his job, answered Austin’s questions, asked a few questions himself and then gave us a brief tour.  Austin decided he liked this government job, but told the Mayor he would rather be President.  Well, it’s good to have lofty goals I thought.

Anyway, after a full day of tours, play, shopping and fun, I needed to stop at the store for some potatoes for dinner. At this point I could just lookat Austin and know he was not up for going to another store, so I had an idea.  As we passed a farmer’s market, I noticed the pumpkins out front.  I decided to make it a “punkin’ pickin’ adventure” and get my potatoes while we were there.

Austin was all over this idea.  “Want to pick some pumpkins for Halloween?” I asked casually.  “Heck, yeah!” came his ecstatic response. So we pulled into the farmer’s market and he was out the door almost before the car came to a complete stop.  First we went inside and looked at the “baby pumpkins” as he calls the miniature ones.  He decided we had to have three baby pumpkins and three large pumpkins, one for each family member to decorate.

I have to admit, I have a phobia of carving pumpkins. Family members think I am strange, but we never did this growing up.  The first time my husband carved a pumpkin with my son, I could not get over the smell and the squishy inside. Yuk! Reminds me of brains!  Anyway, now we have a compromise.  We draw faces on the small ones with paint pens and for the large ones I have found some goofy faces that you just poke into the pumpkins (think Mr. Potato Head for pumpkins).

After picking the baby pumpkins (and my potatoes), we headed outside.  A nice gentleman accompanied us with a shopping cart.  Austin gleefully ran up and down the hill, inspecting each and every pumpkin as if to determine if it was worthy of becoming our family pumpkin.  He ran, he jumped, he laughed, he laid next to them, he inspected the stems.  He called his Dad on the phone and told him he was “punkin’ pickin’”. I was amazed at the pure joy such a simple act could give him.  The market worker and I just laughed at his antics.

Finally he had selected the best three pumpkins in the patch and I raved in amazement at his pumpkin picking skill.  The market worker agreed and said he was by far the best pumpkin picker he had seen all season.  As we paid for our pumpkins, the cashier offered him a sucker. Austin smiled and said “This is a nice place. I think I want to work here when I get big.”  (I don’t know if that is before or after he is President). The cashier assured him there would be a spot for him when he was ready.

As we loaded up the pumpkins and got ready to go, Austin exclaimed “We’ll be back. I’m a good Christmas tree picker too!” Though we broke down and bought an artificial tree two years ago, I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble.  I simply said “Yes, he is. We will definitely be back.”  And we will be back, because I can’t wait to see what fun he will have picking out that tree.  It’s enough to make you wish you were seven again!

Before Hurricane Katrina he talked me into ripping up carpet in our huge living room and installing hard wood floors ourselves. What a messed up decision that turned out to be.  Wood, nails, polyurethane and heavy equipment were littered all over the house for weeks.  And when it was gone, layers of sand remained.

Anyway, not having learned my lesson, we have a half-completed landscaping project in the front yard (which in my defense I was NOT consulted about until I got a call from Lowe’s that the landscaping stones we ordered were now in stock – not a good way to find out!) and now I think I may have just agreed to pull up the carpet in the den, tile it and paint the room. The den is now covered with tile samples and paint chips and I am left staring like a deer in the headlights wondering what I have gotten myself into.

I blame Lowe’s and their “one year interest free” ploy. My husband simply can not resist it.  They keep sending him these offers in the mail, coupled with some cheesy little $15 coupon and as soon as he walks in the store he is hooked.  Immediately his eyes glaze over, he begins to salivate and before you know it he is pushing multiple carts full of “must have” home improvement gadgets and gizmos.  That’s why I agreed to meet him at Lowe’s after work, to supervise him and make sure he didn’t get into trouble. 

Well, my plan failed. The voice of reason was promptly tuned out and even the pleas of our 7 year old that he “wanted to get home before he got old and dead” fell on deaf ears.  This was not a game we could win.

So now I say to you…slate or marble? Grey or tan? Satin or semi-gloss? It’s going to happen so I just have to try and hang on for the ride and act like I have some part in the process.  That or not come home for two weeks.  Hmmm. Perhaps this is a good time for a disaster deployment after all.

I feel extremely fortunate to work with this organization. It has shown me the power of the human spirit.  Sometimes, that is all we have left.  Mother Nature can knock down our homes, wash away everything we own, even take some of our loved ones with her, but time after time the human spirit will prevail.

I have seen many tragedies in this job. Every client I meet has a story, usually filled with calamity and adversity.  It can at times be overwhelming.  I learned early on you can’t fix everything and until you come to terms with that, you will be in constant turmoil.  Now I try to fix my little corner of things, where ever I am. And when I am feeling tired, like I can’t go on, I just have to look across the room – or sometimes across the internet – to my fellow Red Crossers to find inspiration. More often than not, they are working longer hours than me at much harder tasks and they keep going. They have smiles on their faces. They help those in need. They put their lives on hold to pick up the pieces of someone else’s. They are amazing.

In July I went to South Texas to play a small role in the Hurricane Dolly relief effort. The days were long. The environment was hot and full of mosquitoes. I learned the true meaning of the word exhaustion. But no matter how tired or frustrated I got, once again all I had to do was look across the room. My room.

My roommate was Miss Marguerite.  Miss Marguerite is 80 years old and she is an ERV (Emergency Response Vehicle) driver from Victoria, Texas.  She has what I consider to be one of the hardest jobs out there. Everyday before sunrise she and her partner were off, loading the truck with meals and snacks.  Then they drove in unfamiliar territory, with many roads washed out, to devastated areas to feed people.  All day long she fed people out of that hot, metal truck.  Late at night they would come back and unload and clean the truck. She would rarely return to our room before midnight. And the next day at 5 am, she would be at it again.  Never a complaint. Always a kind word.  That’s Miss Marguerite and there are thousands more like her within the Red Cross.

Shortly after I returned home from Hurricane Dolly, I got a card in the mail.  You guessed it. It was from Miss Marguerite. She was thanking me for being such a good roommate and telling me she would see me on the next disaster operation.

I hope I do, Miss Marguerite. I hope I do.

I have pondered this question on a regular basis for most of my life and have come up with some very different answers.  I used to think I wanted to do stand up comedy.  Well, it turns out I’m not that funny, at least not to other people. (I crack myself up all the time.)  And I don’t really like standing for long periods of time. And I don’t like people staring at me and heckling me.  So that was kind of a deal breaker.

Used to want to be a Veterinarian.  Don’t like blood and dying animals, so again, it was a no-go.

Entertainer? Again, you need some kind of talent for that (well, you used to before reality shows), so that is not an option.

Now a lot of people will say “I am doing my dream job”, to which I say, “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”.  Save that for your boss when you are up for your performance review.  Most of us, no matter how much we may like our company, co-workers and the work, can always find something we would rather be doing.

My epiphany came to me on a trip to Key West, Florida some years ago.  Somewhere in between the jacuzzi and the pool-side massage, I decided to take a little boat trip.  I love the water and the sand and surf.  So my friend and I decide to go parasailing.  It was a cool thought, but about 10 minutes into hanging out up there in the wind, I decided I was bored.  The “OK, been here, done it, what’s next?” feeling was setting in as it usually does for those of us with 5 second attention spans, when I found I had to do something to occupy my mind until they brought me down for my landing.  As I looked down at the ocean, the boat and all the tourists on it, it hit me.  I thought “That’s my dream job… parasailing boat captain in Key West”.

It has been my dream ever since.  Just think about it. You get to live in the Keys.  Sweet!  It is only really busy certain months of the year and during those months you can charge the tourists a king’s ransom for your services and live off the profit in the slow months.  You get to be on the water all the time, get a great tan and your crew really does all the work.  Also, it’s just a little ski boat, not some big huge thing I couldn’t handle. Growing up on Mobile Bay I think I was driving boats before I was walking.  Living in Orlando for 8 years helped to hone my skills.  I could do this.

My PR person brain is not good with math, but even I couldn’t help counting up the profits.  Tourists were paying $75 a pop to float around for 20 minutes.  Those just riding and not parasailing still had to pay a fee. The captain just drove the boat. The crew did all the hard work, probably for little more than minimum wage.  Yes, I thought. This is my dream job indeed.

Now, I am sure I will get comments to this post pointing out the down side of my dream job.  Save it. Don’t burst my bubble. I know there are costs to the boat, repairs, insurance, payroll, equipment, etc.. I am sure the underpaid workers will not show up from time to time and leave me high and dry to handle everything myself.  The long hours in the sun may leave me with skin cancer. The rising cost of fuel will eat into my profits.  My logical brain knows all these things, but my romantic mind won’t entertain such notions.  It just wants to soak up the sun…and dream.

This is especially true if the person involved is someone you care about or someone you have to deal with on a regular basis.  I think we all know that problems don’t solve themselves.  Ignoring them usally makes them worse.  Many times whatever the person did to offend you was completely accidental or maybe they don’t even know what they have done.  I feel even if you are angry, you owe the person the respect and common courtesy of discussing it with them and giving them a chance to respond or make amends.  I mean, even criminals have the right to face their accuser, right?  Not offering our friends, family and co-workers the same privilege seems unfair and even a little bit cowardly to me. 

Anyway, this is just my opinion, so take it for what it is worth. We all have them.  If we don’t agree, it doesn’t mean one is right or wrong, it just means they are different.

I think I am too trusting, too willing to believe what is put out there as truth.  I don’t want to be jaded, but I also don’t want to be made a fool of either. I just wish people could be straight up with each other.  Deception has become an art form for some people and it is getting hard to spot the real thing among all the fakes.

So here is my plea to all who know me… just be honest.  I’m a big girl. I can handle it. Just say what you mean and mean what you say.  If I need a breath mint, a chill pill, if I have something in my teeth, if these pants make my butt look huge, it’s OK, just get it out there.  Now, I’m not saying be mean, you can be diplomatic, just tell the truth.  I would actually find that quite refreshing.

In early July I was in California for the Red Cross wildfire relief effort.  I had been there about a week and as usual it was one day melding into another, up early, home late and that restless, “I’m in a weird place and not my own bed” kind of sleep.  One night just before I went to sleep, I fired up my laptop and was checking email.  I had recently joined a social network for my Alma Mater, Auburn University, called Tiger2Tiger.  It’s like a Facebook for Alum’s, you go on, create an account and look for old friends.  I had found several aquaintances, and it was fun and new.  So, being so far from home, I decided to log on to T2T and see who else I could find.

When I got on I was shocked to see I had a new friend request and it was from an old friend that I had not seen since like 1988 or 1989.  This person was not just any friend, this was someone that had been one of my closest friends ever. Over the years we had drifted apart.  You know how it goes, you graduate, move away, get married, have kids etc…  But I had thought of this friend almost every day and had searched on the internet for information.  I had no luck and I really thought I would never see my friend again.  And now, here it was, right on my screen.  I couldn’t believe it.

So at first I thought it might be kind of weird, not having talked to this person in so long.  But from the first email it was like we had never been apart.  I swear we almost picked up our last conversation right where we left it.  And now it has been about a month and it is so great to be able to call and email like no time has passed at all.  So for all the “evils” the internet has created I have decided that the good seems to out weigh the bad.

I have learned a valuable lesson about friendship and keeping in touch and not just from this incident.   I also had a close friend from college that was diagnosed with cancer about 13 years ago.  I almost lost her too and that was a wake up call for me.  So now I have learned not to get too caught up in my own world and all its drama;  To make sure I am the kind of friend I would like to have; And to always make the time to keep in touch.