Charity begins at home

Jonathon Gould had been one of my favorite graduate students. Also one of my smartest. But things've changed somewhat since I've retired. Now he's Dr. Gould. The table's been turned. Now, I'm the one who's getting the help and inspiration from Jon.

10:00am in the morning. Jon glanced at me over the top of a huge stack of student notebooks: "Hey Bob! Canya help Ruth & Maggie & me deliver the Christmas gifts and food to our needy family this afternoon?"

I was speculative for a moment -- thinking about my long list of afternoon chores. I decided to help. But before I could answer,

Jon spoke: "No pressure, Bob. If you're busy, I can dig up somebody else. Maybe several somebody-elses while I've got my shovel workin'."

That was an inside-joke. Jon had been one of those slightly older students. Before he became an extraordinarily successful middle-school math teacher, he had spent several years as a licensed undertaker.

We both chuckled.

"Nah! Ya-got me up and all the dirt shaken off. I might's well help ya."

"I'm serious, Bob. You got some plans for this afternoon. . . ."

"Nope! No other plans, Jon. I'd liketa help ya. Haven't done anything like that since I was mid-teens -- the Methodist Church choir and MYF. Thanksgiving and Christmas. Food baskets and gifts." I instantly remembered how much fun that had been all those years ago. How good it had felt.

Nostalgic stuff. I grinned as I recounted how after we packed the food-baskets and wrapped the gifts, and made our deliveries, we'd shovel off a nearby pond, build a fire, and ice-skate. GCF @ MYF. And it had been Good Clean Fun, too -- something like what might happen in an old Andy Hardy movie starring Micky Rooney and Judy Garland. I mean, in-between rollicking and polished rehearsals for their spontaneous theater production in his father's barn. Simpler days.

But I was puzzled. Howcum just four of us. Howcum just ONE needy family. Usedta be dozens of us and three, maybe four needy families.

Before I could ask, John saw the puzzled look on my face and volunteered: "Most Faculty've turned their backs on the project. Keep telling us: 'Charity begins at home.' Many still donate money. But they've gotten too busy to help otherwise."

Stumped me. Truth is: I'd been gone over three years. The faculty I'd known well had long-since retired. Only a few old friends left on campus.

New, young people have their own ideas, their own ways of keeping busy. Because I'd been gone so long, I didn't know the new-comers and had pretty much lost touch with remaining old-timers. Didn't even know the new routines and rituals practiced since I'd left. Didn't make sense to be critical though.

So I slid into my coat: "Got some errands ta-run. What time's the fun begin?"

Jon gave me a soft atta-boy punch on my right shoulder as I passed him on the way out the door: "We load my van at 2:30pm. Seeya then!"

I finished my errands just in time. Took us about twenty minutes to load the big cart, get stuff into the elevator, then out to the waiting van and loaded. Snow was falling in big, lazy, zig-zaggy flakes. There we were: Two bone-cold youngish women in flimsy jackets, a hale, forty-ish ex-pall-bearer, and a vigorous aging man. But loading the van was fun. I was amazed we got everything stacked safely away so quickly.

Snow came down thick, slowing traffic on the slick pavement. Clear across town during the beginnings of rush-hour, too. But Ruth knew the way: every landmark and turn. She'd been raised in the area. Had grown up there at about the same time the neighborhood was changing.

Thirty minutes brought us to a tiny cottage on a street full of other ones pretty much just like it. The house was small considering the size of the family. Gramma watched and raised six stair-step kids while their mother worked long hours downtown. Three generations in one house-hold. Not all bad.

We parked out front in deepening snow. Maggie and Ruth worked the front door. Jon and I did the running. No sense us all tracking in.

The older kids were still at school. The youngest -- her eyes big with wonder -- sat on Gramma's lap watching wrapped packages and plastic bags of food come surging through the front door.

In under fifteen minutes the van was empty. Still, we double-checked before we slammed the doors with a satisfying good-job-well-done flourish and slapped a high-five.

Jon and I stomped our shoes clean of snow on the stoop and stepped into the cottage. In dim light we could just make out the room and the small kitchen beyond an open door centered in the back wall.

The large stack of wrapped packages dwarfed a small tree in the corner. An immense fruit basket and a 20-pound frozen turkey crowded the small kitchen counter. Maybe a dozen or more grocery bags filled the kitchen table and overflowed onto the linoleum floor.

Jon nodded with satisfaction. Things'd gone smoothly as planned. He reached down gently and tweeked the child's nose, then smiled at Gramma: "All set?"

The child smiled up into his face and nodded. Gramma rubbed her eyes on her forearm, looked around at us with a smile: "We surely thanksya, folks. We feelin' mighty blessed & lucky right this very moment. . . ."

Jon bent slightly at the waist, placed his left hand gently on young-one's head, his right hand on Gramma's shoulder: "We're the ones feelin' mighty lucky this very moment. We thank you."

Some smiles and quick waves. A chorus of Merry Christmases. A few teary eyes. And we were out the door and into the van.

It was mostly quiet on the way back to school. But we were chock fulla good feelings.


As we head back to campus, I gaze out the van window. Large white flakes whirl down and gently cover our world. . .making everything beautiful.

Jon had it completely right. I couldn't help but think the rest of the faculty had it almost right. The old utterance "Charity begins at home" is mistaken. Makes more sense to say, as Jon might:

Charity ENDS UP at home.

If you're lucky enough to have a little extra to share with others. . .you go on out and share it.

Then an abiding spirit of generosity fills your heart.
And that's what you bring home with you.

That spirit soon fills your home.
And your life changes for the better.

_____________________________
Webster:
Charity--Middle English: n charite, Latin: n caritas = Christian Love. cf Sanskrit: Kama = love

Def: Good will toward needy and suffering.
Synonymous with mercy

Share--Old English: vt scearu= cutting. Old English: scieran vt = to cut

Def: one's full share or portion. To apportion fairly