In giving money, people show a bit of themselves

So it was with terrific reluctance and a wry nod to irony that I picked up a bucket last year to fulfill membership requirements in a group I had recently joined.

It was one of the coldest days of winter, of course. Life has a way of laughing at you like that. But by the time I had dethawed later that night, I had new insight into people, bucket drives and the dedication of anyone who does one.

Last weekend - pleasantly warmer - was my second as one of the medical students who blanket Ann Arbor annually to collect money for Galens Medical Society.

In its 71st year, Tag Days is a well-known and generally respected charity among Ann Arbor residents. Many people who seemed to want to keep walking stopped when they saw Tag Days signs. Others were convinced by the description of what Galens does with the approximately $68,000 it collects every year - making those two days by far one of the most successful charity drives at the University. Galens donates all the money to children's charities; a majority of the money goes to Child Life at Mott Children's Hospital, a program that provides toys, art supplies and games to help children be kids instead of patients, if only for a couple hours a day.

Of the hundreds of people we encountered, most were polite, some were friendly and some were rude. And while this is to be expected, it is quite different on the asking side than on the ignoring side.

One man wanted to know who Galen was before he'd donate. Another presented a flash card and asked the name of the pictured muscle. We found high school students willing to dig in their pockets for change while adults who drove up in expensive cars walked by stonily. We met people who had benefited from Galens money in childhood.

One woman told me about her father, a traditional neighborhood doctor, in whose memory she donates every year. We met a man who first donated in 1956. I convinced my senior prom date to donate, which bought him endless taunting from his wife for his previous disavowals of Tag Days. I heard stories about people who did not donate - including priests and sports columnists. We encountered plenty of nodding and smiling, all people who kept walking.

Some of the more amusing responses to the question, "Would you like to donate to help the children of Washtenaw County?":

o "Yes," while walking by without donating.

o "Help Washtenaw County? They locked me up!"

o "I hate kids."

o "I'm having enough trouble raising them."

o "I do, but not in that way."

o "They should be helping me."

While it is obviously preferable to collect as much money as possible when you've devoted 12 hours to standing outside with a heavy bucket, it is also understandable when people cannot - or do not want to - contribute at a particular time. We watched people scurry with eyes cast downward, try to slip past unasked and wear their tag as protective armor.

Particularly offensive, though, are those who outright ignore the request - as if you are not a person, as if you did not just speak to them, as if because they are the askee that they are at some higher level of humanity.

Absolutely not.

This is the most direct lesson I have learned: Saying "No, I'm sorry" or "Not right now" is the best thing to do aside from contributing. It is the respectful way to treat another human being who asks a simple question.

Stand outside collecting money for any period of time, and you will begin to appreciate just some of what homeless people face every time they ask strangers for money. You will feel relief at simply being acknowledged and the frustration of being completely ignored. Because of my experience, I now respond in some way to everyone who asks. I have found that almost everyone is appreciative for just that effort.

And pocket change does make a difference. The man who declined because he was too "poor" but later added a couple coins to my bucket is equally charitable as the man driving the Mercedes convertible who gave a $100 bill.

Of all the responses I heard, the one that seems most apt came from a woman on Friday night: "You'll get lots of presents for this." While I had regarded the 12 hours of collecting as something I had to do, she reminded me there was something greater. Along with the several other people who thanked us, she reminded me that there was real good that would come of my time, real people who would be positively affected.

It was how to realize that "whatever you can give" actually does matter.

- Megan Schimpf can be reached over e-mail at mschimpf@umich.edu

Megan Schimpf Prescriptions

12-11-98