It says “I care,” and I’m often surprised when people can read it because I usually forget it’s there.
I had Monday off and used it for running errands and granny-ing, a new word I just made up. As for the latter, we saw “The Muppets” movie and I highly recommend it.
As for the former: I was walking out of a store and passed the red kettle of the Salvation Army. I’ve seen them in action out in Joplin after the worst tornado imaginable, so of course I stuffed some money in and wished the woman standing by a good holiday (and no, I’m not a soldier in the War On Christmas, but I have no idea if this woman celebrates Christmas and it’s patently OK with me if she doesn’t).
I was loading my food into the car when a woman walked up and apologized for interrupting me loading my food into my car. That’s when I remembered my invisible tattoo. She had in her hand a small maroon pillow with the words “Merry Christmas” written in silver glitter. She said she was selling those pillows to raise money for Christmas for her kids, who’d made them.
A few years ago, I decided to give money every time someone approaches me like this. It takes away the guesswork and I don’t have to agonize. I just hand over money. I gave her what I had (not much) and told her that while the pillow was beautiful, I had no need of any new ones (I figured that way, she could have one extra one to sell, though I didn’t tell her that). She thanked me profusely — though it really wasn’t much money — and I wished her good luck and Merry Christmas. Meanwhile, the woman who was loading her groceries into the car next to mine was listening, and she handed over money, as well. The woman who was collecting said we’d both blessed her (did I mention it wasn’t much money?) and then a man who was loading his van nearby fished into his pocket and pulled out some bills, too. The pillow woman left, and I was pushing my cart around to the little carriage holder, and said to the woman, “Sometimes, I feel rich,” and she agreed and said she always gave money when asked, because she and her husband had been “truly blessed.” She was driving — there is no other word for it — a beater, but who am I to judge? I bet her car’s paid off, and mine? Is not. Meanwhile, the guy with the van walks over and says he’s a welder whose been out of work for two years, but he hadn’t had to go beg in a parking lot, so he felt rich, too.
You can’t make this stuff up and you shouldn’t try. The three of us ended up chatting in the parking lot. The man said he’d tried to take some training at a local community college, but no job had come from it. He’d found part-time work and was fortunate that his wife still had a job.
Sometimes, I think you’re standing right where you need to stand. I figure it’s God, but — again — I’m patently OK if you think it’s fate. Some of us need to be reminded that we really are rich, and I guess that’s someone’s me. Will the pillow woman use that money to buy Christmas presents for her kids? I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s not my money, anyway, and if I’d pretended that it was and hung onto it, I know precisely what I would have done with it: Bought popcorn at the movies.
Presidential candidate Mitt Romney has said that he is reluctant to release more of his tax returns because he doesn’t want others to know how much he gives to his Mormon church.
