Winston Churchill once said, "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."
There's truth there, and that's just one of a kajillion famous quotes on charity. There's even meaner ones, like the old English proverb, "He who has no charity deserves no mercy." I'm in no hurry to go mercy-judging stingy people, but it's true that charity and kindness should be a cornerstone to a life well lived.
I'd even wager that charity and kindness should be a cornerstone to a life wasted on fast food, pop culture, and silly newspaper columns, too. I found that out this week.
There's a business I frequent that's in the midst of their annual charity drive. It's one of those fundraisers that goes after you aggressively in the checkout line. Just when you're ready to pay and be on your way, the cash register asks for a donation and then there's a whole submenu full of different ways you can contribute to help end child hunger. That's a worthy cause if there ever was one.
I'd been in the store twice earlier this month, and each time I'd been in a HUGE hurry. Not an "I'm-running-a-bit-late" sort of hurry. No, these were full throttle "I-should-have-been-somewhere-ten-minutes-ago" hurries where I was in total panic mode. And each time, when I hit the counter and the donation menu popped up, I quickly and shamelessly drilled the "NO" button as many times as it took to make a fast exit. Not my finest hour, I know.
In fact, on one occasion, I avoided taking a moment for child hunger was because I was late... for dinner. I'm pretty sure this makes me a terrible human being destined for Selfish Hell. (Selfish Hell, by the way, is just an empty room where Sarah McLachlan sings to you about neglected animals for eternity.)
Thankfully and deservedly, it ate at my conscience. The other day, I returned to the store. This time I wasn't in a hurry. This time, I would make it right.
I got to the counter, made my purchase, and the cash register asked if I'd like to make a donation to fight child hunger. "Yes, Mr. Cash Register," I silently replied via the keypad. "I would very much like to donate."
"Great!" said the screen. "Can I round up your purchase in the form of a donation?"
"YES!" my thumb triumphantly agreed.
"Would you like to round up to the nearest whole dollar? Or would you like to round up to the nearest five dollar increment?"
"FIVE DOLLARS," I proudly chose with my index finger.
In that moment, I was filled with the smug satisfaction of unbridled generosity. That's me -- Shane Brown: Friend To Humanity. Thoughtless Giver. Humanitarian of the Year. Maybe they'll throw a parade in my honor.
"Thank you for your donation," the clerk said with what strangely seemed like an eyeroll.
"Happy to help!" I cheerily replied, beaming with saintly pride as I strolled out the door, head held high. Had it NOT been held high, it might have noticed the receipt. You see, my purchase that day had come to $14.98. By agreeing to a charitable donation to the nearest five-dollar increment, my great act of kindness and personal sacrifice that afternoon came to, precisely, $.02.
That's right -- if you want my two cents on the child hunger epidemic, you're officially too late. You're welcome, children of the world. Enjoy the bounty I hath bestowed upon you all. I didn't even notice until I'd made it home. I'm starting to think there might not be a parade in my honor after all. Suddenly I understood the cashier's eyeroll. It probably cost more to print "thank you for your contribution" on my receipt than the entirety of my contribution itself.
Who knows, maybe countless tiny donations like that can add up to a serious impact. Hopefully I'll get a few more opportunities to make amends. If not, I'm finding a way to donate online. I guess it's simple: There's a ton of great organizations out there that always need help -- but don't do it just to make yourself feel better about giving. Trust me, it's a fleeting high. Do it for others. If you're in a fortunate enough position to lend a hand now, you never know when you might just need one back someday.
That's MY two cents, at least.
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