Between the mail and telephone solicitations, I’m about to burst.
It seems as though I receive entreaties daily to help the lesser among us. I’m not the softest touch in the world, nor am I the hardest egg in the carton.
But this begging bombardment has felt so onerous that I decided to do an unscientific mini-survey. I chose not to count the dinnertime telephone calls, which I estimate occurred twice a week. Rather, I focused solely on the U.S. Mail.
Between September 11th (that seemed like an appropriate red-letter day to begin this study) and October 11th, I received 28 letters requesting my financial assistance to save humanity, either locally or globally.
Interestingly, three organizations sent multiple requests during this period. One of my new "best friends” sent three letters, or one every 10 days, on average, whereas the other two were a tad less insistent with a mere two requests.
In total, I received solicitations from 24 separate organizations wishing to relieve my wallet of some excess paper therein. If your wallet resembles mine, there really isn’t that much excess paper of which to relieve.
This entire matter is very unsettling. Most charity organizations are deserving and contribute to the commonweal. However, let’s get real! How much can any of us afford, financially and emotionally, to address all the deserving causes?
It’s all so overwhelming. It’s hard to take. These folks are inventive and creative. One envelope contained a calendar, another a nickel, and still another offered return mailing address labels. One organization even sent a U.S. flag inside a large transparent cylindrical plastic package. I suppose the point is that if you’re tempted to use the gifts you’ll feel obligated to send the money.
How did I get on so many mailing lists? Did my past giving set me up for this barrage of benevolence?
When these organizations call, they don’t seem to care that you’re on a gazillion lists. They want their due. Their cause is superior to everyone else’s. Their arrogance certainly seems to be. Yet, it doesn’t seem right to forsake a need because the hired phone jockeys are pushy and inconsiderate.
I’m tempted to get an unlisted mailing address, if that’s possible. Between the door-to-door salesmen and women and the phone calls, I wish I were marooned on Gilligan’s Island.
Like most people, I want to help, but I don’t want seemingly thousands of people knocking incessantly on my proverbial financial door asking for more and more and more.
If I won the lottery, there wouldn’t be enough money to go around to all these causes. Even Bill Gates’ Foundation, the world's largest, knows it doesn’t have the resources to cure all ills. It donates only to certain causes.
I’m sure you, too, receive such letters. Perhaps your way of managing your munificence is better than mine, as I don’t feel I’m managing anything!
Well, gotta go. Can’t dally. I’ve got checks to my local charities that I have to put in the mail.
Whew! I’m getting writer’s cramp.
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Fred W. Apelquist, III, M.Ed.
Approximately 510 words.
© October, 2006