Tuesday, November 18, 1997
Lessons from Childhood
Applied
by Debora Tidwell
([email protected])
I was raised a Catholic and attended parochial schools. One of the things I remember learning at a very early age because of this is that there are a lot of people less fortunate than I. In school, we had a stream of missionaries related to whatever teaching order ran the school (Jesuits, Dominicans, Ursulines, etc.) visit to tell us of their work in other countries with the poor. We were constantly reminded of the existence of poverty and hunger even though we didn't experience it first-hand in our day-to-day lives.
During Lent (the 40 days from Ash Wednesday to Easter), I remember something called the "rice bowl." No, it's not a football game. It was a little paper bowl that we were given to take home. The idea was that one day a week your family would give up a meal, usually dinner, or would eat a very small meal consisting of a small portion of rice or some beans (representing what many people around the world have to exist on for their daily food). You would take the money your family would have spent on a normal meal and put it in the rice bowl. At the end of the 40-day period, the church would send the money to charities that supported missionary work and fed the hungry in third-world countries.
I was still in grade school, but I remember this experience having a profound effect on my understanding of poverty and hunger. I was a growing child. I studied hard, played, did chores and homework, and expended energy. When dinner came around, I was hungry. I remember looking at a small bowl of rice or even nothing at all at dinner time and remembering that there were kids just like me who only had that much to eat for an entire day. Doing without one meal was difficult for me. It hit home what tremendous suffering kids went through who had to do this every day. My birthday always fell during Lent too (but thankfully my parents never made that "rice bowl" night).
Despite the fact that I was able to understand these concepts and sympathize with the plight of these people, poverty and hunger still seemed very remote and it was hard to remain concerned once Easter came with its chocolate bunnies and decadent excess.
As the Christmas holiday season approaches this year, it brings with it the memories of many traditions too -- singing in the choir at midnight Mass and crying during the Little Drummer Boy song (yes, it still makes me cry), followed by an early-morning breakfast at a 24-hour pancake house. Begging Mom and Dad to let us open just one gift when we got home, because technically it was Christmas even though it was 2:00 in the morning, before we were sent off to sleep. ("You kids try that argument every year. When are you finally going to give up?") Waking up later in the morning to the sound of Christmas carols on the stereo and the smell of bacon and blueberry muffins, although that couldn't compete with the appeal of the wrapped boxes spilling out from under the tree, filling almost the entire living room. Waiting while my brother David sorted all of the gifts into piles in front of each person (that was always his job) before we started opening our gifts.
A couple of weeks ago we were told about the partnership The Motley Fool would have with Share Our Strength -- raising money to build community kitchens that feed the hungry, teach people skills they need to get a job and leave the ranks of the "needy," and provide meals to other local charities so they can concentrate on the work they do best rather than having to build their own facilities to feed the people they serve. This wasn't a remote thing at all. These are community kitchens right here in this country that will help real people right here.
Then I thought about Christmas and what it has become as my siblings and I have grown and moved away. We usually have trouble coming up with a list of things we want for Christmas. I always ask for towels because they wear out and I usually need a couple to replace threadbare ones. My family thinks that's a little wacky, though, so they give me things like pasta machines and salad spinners. I don't know why. I think they just refuse to believe I really need towels. The truth is, however, that we all really have the things we need and most of the things we want, too.
I thought about all of this and sent an e-mail to my family last week. I told them about the community kitchens and the Fool Charity Fund. I reminded them how much time we'd save not having to go to the malls and buy each other stuff we don't need and will probably return anyway. I even reminded them that it's tax deductible (a first for Christmas gifts in our family). I challenged them to take the money they plan to spend on Christmas gifts for family members and send it in for the Fool Charity Fund to help people better their lives -- sort of a Christmastime version of the "rice bowl." We'll see what happens. Maybe it's something you'd like to propose to your family this year, too.
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