Tag Archives: generosity

When I first committed myself to this journey, I was unsure what I was going to find along the way. I’m still kind of flailing around along the road, but that seems to be my modus operandi anyway. Now that I have a few volunteer hours under my belt, the subject has come up in conversation with a few friends and my family. I wondered whether I should even bring up the subject at all as I feared it would cheapen the experience or I would be touting my new found helping hands. I guess I thought I would immediately be turned into some altruistic, super hero philanthropist do-gooder once I started this. Admittedly, the first time I had to turn down dinner plans because I had a food pantry obligation it did feel pretty good. Perhaps altruism is one of those goals in life that even if you never achieve, is still worth reaching for.

When it comes to doing ‘good’ for others, particularly those that you have never met before, is it normal to wonder what the motivation is? I noticed after volunteering at one of the main locations for Community Food Bank of NJ that I was feeling guilty about it perhaps not being the right fit for me, as they only have individual volunteer dates once a month, and also I wished it was more of a personal experience. While everyone there is beyond lovely, it just felt like such a big place to start and most of the fellow volunteers were school children and their chaperons. I grappled with the thought that maybe it would be selfish to try to find different, smaller, food banks to better suit me, and within that thought I had to wonder what my motivation was. I know my original motivation was to keep the spirit of Rita alive, to let the world know that a light that untainted and bright could still rub off on even the most disparaging of introverts. My second motivation, upon really balancing the question between my head and my heart is that I really would like to be less pessimistic, to have some of the soft glow of the charitable rub off on me. Just writing in this style as opposed to my usual dark and brooding, creepy version of pastoral prose is a start (baby steps).

I remember when I first told my brother about my efforts his reaction was, “Oh man, I really have to start doing more things like that. I just want to get a whole bunch of toys and start giving them to kids!” I laughed, may have snorted, and told him “well, I’m not entirely sure parents would be ok with that sort of thing, unless… Here, put on this red coat! We need to find some reindeer! Do you think I can look elfin??” It was then that I realized, after seriously wondering how many baked goods, red felt and cotton balls I would need to prepare my brother for Santa-hood, that it was OK to talk about something positive, something that could rub off on someone else as equally positive. Most of us are good people, with varying layers of cynicism covering the good soil for which to plant the seed.

And so, I did find other opportunities to suit me through Jersey Cares. It really is a great tool for those in the NJ area to find activities and locations through a calendar of events that are all over the state. I’ve since volunteered at a shelter sorting cloths for some wonderful women and their children. To which I was also pleasantly surprised as to how generous some were with their donations of bags upon bags of brand new baby clothes and pajamas. I’ve also found a great food pantry/clothing deposit in East Brunswick that I really enjoy despite the miles being put on my trusty old car to get there. These are some great people there who are so friendly and energetic the time really flies. I met a woman named Lana, “like Lana Turner!” she told me with a saucy grin and a man named Paul who regaled me with stories of his racing old muscle cars back in the 60s while Lana and I sorted through bags of clothes and hung them up giggling. I think that’s what I needed, to drop my guard for once, not just concentrate solely on the tasks at hand, but to become open enough to take in the others around me. I started to feel a little lighter on my road, like I didn’t have to just get hours in to fulfill a quota of some sort in my head or convince myself I need to figure out my motivation. It doesn’t matter what the motivation is, was or will be, it’s just a start. A starting line that I imagine I will be at for quite some time but at the very least I’m finally on the track.

AndreaCain

Humanitarian in Training: Part I

February 4, 2016

larandolph

General No Comments

This time of the year tends to be either a bright, sparkling time of magic or the most heart wrenchingly lonely time of the calendar year. Perhaps even a mixture of the two. All things tend to get magnified; love, loss, generosity, greed, gratitude, disappointment and all the aspects of human emotion and introspection in between are heightened. There’s something magnetic in the air that, for better or worse, grabs a stronghold of our thoughts and actions. Everything about this collision typically leads to excess fretting, which, in turn, leads to excessive indulgences and it seems to really be a sort of polarization of the human spirit.

It is true that this time of the year brings out both the absolute best, and sometimes the worst in all of us. So, within all this excess, anxiety and love, I now find myself trying to navigate this mission of selflessness. I’ve always considered myself a kind person to the people in my life that I cherish, and I know I would do for them whatever they asked, but admittedly, it takes me a very long time to warm up to people in general so strangers tend to stay strangers and I live my life in a very tightly closed circle. I’ve been inspired by this foundation’s namesake and creator, but also realize this is going to be a journey to try to make a difference while simultaneously fighting against 30 years of my natural inclinations. How can someone that finds human interaction so uncomfortable become more of a humanitarian?

So I’ve scoured the web and found different charities to sign up for – so wait, you mean I can’t just walk up to a food bank and say ‘put me to work, in the back?’ Oh, ok so away I go with the emails. There are phone numbers to call, but being me, despite trying to be this helpful soul, there’s always been something about speaking with people on the phone that makes my mouth go dry and my head go blank. I find myself falling back already into what is easiest, too anxious to directly contact anyone. So I wait, and in the mean time, I donate my singles to the charity jars next to the cash register, and I gathered up all my old clothes and I pack them into the clothing bins outside the super market. And I still wait, a part of me sort of hoping my emails won’t be returned because that may force me out of my comfort zone. Getting caught up in the hoopla of the holiday season, the thoughts of giving are with my family and friends again as opposed to strangers. Checking my emails I see all the deals from various stores’ lists I find myself on, but still no replies for my charitable efforts to begin.

And then there are the excuses, I could just call- but its so much easier to remain taciturn in my bubble, and I still have all this shopping to do… and then my shopping was done, and my work hours were not quite as hectic. Ok, so now I have a choice, to remain on the sidelines or get in the game (a surprisingly effective sports metaphor really). So, I called, I left a message and I received a call a few days later from a very nice woman named Traci Hendricks of the Community Food Banks of NJ and my visit was scheduled.

As I set out to Hillside, NJ I fought my nerves sparking and crackling at the newness of it all whilst my anxiety scratched at the back of my head ever so gently. Despite having one of the warmest winters on record for the east coast, as I headed out it began to sleet and I found myself having to remember not to complain as I dipped and dodged in between traffic by Newark airport. Remembering that at least I have a car, at least I have a warm coat and that these little inconveniences are no tragedy.

When I arrived, I was the first person there and as I waited for the others to arrive, I soon had to bat away hopes that I may be the only one there due to the weather. Soon I was joined by the other volunteers, mostly consisting of a school group and parents and we were sent to our task. The building was huge and incredibly well organized and our group leader was a high energy, open hearted man named Omar. I got the impression, almost immediately, that he was another one of those truly warm hearted people that you feel happy to have come across in the world. With a playlist prepared and a lively atmosphere around us, he put us all to work making boxes and packing up plastic bags. Time flew by on our little assembly line and it was really great to see the look on some of the parents’ faces as they watched their children put in great work with no complaints, and these were teenagers!

At the end of our time Omar gathered us all before we left for a great little speech to remind us of what we have and how grateful we need to continue to be because you truly never know if you may find yourself on the opposite side of the spectrum. You could tell how much he really cared about his work there and that this was far from a canned speech. He felt every word he spoke and as I was I nodding and smiling to his words, I scanned the group and I noticed something I could scarcely believe, within his captive audience, not one person was glancing at there phones. Now that, in this age, is enough to inspire any pessimistic observer to become a humanitarian in training.

AndreaCain

A Legacy Most Worthy

January 21, 2016

larandolph

General 2 Comments

I didn’t want to take down the Christmas tree this year. I cringed at the thought of removing the lights from the house, the wreath from the door, and the inflatable Tigger with the giant candy cane from the center of the lawn. I hated the idea of replacing the cheer and warmth of the season with the steely cold of a grey January.

My family was never religious. When I was growing up, we went the Santa Claus route rather than a spiritual one. While we generally have a nice time every year, usually for me Christmas is a bit of a chore. The shopping, or more accurately, finding the money to afford gifts, contributes to a lot of holiday stress. The travel back and forth on Christmas Day makes it the least relaxing holiday on the calendar. One year, we didn’t even decorate. We just didn’t have it in us. Yet, all that did was make it even more depressing.

Two thousand fourteen was a tough year for us. A very dear friend, Alessandra, died suddenly of a stroke at the age of 42, leaving behind her husband, Carl, whom I’ve known since grade school, and two young boys. Mere weeks later, I lost my job. One hit after another made it difficult for me to embrace the coming Christmas season. I focused on the negative. The house was barely decorated and the tree was hastily put up with only days to spare. By December 27, it was all gone. The house showed no signs of Christmas. It was as if it never happened.

January of 2015 was no improvement. Kevin Brown, the first real friend I made in the theater a few years earlier, succumbed to cancer. He was just a few years older than me. His death affected me more than I anticipated and it was the first loss of the year to chip away at my outlook on life. Kevin possessed a hugely positive spirit. He loved life, people, and the craft of acting. He was a fantastic performer and an all around great human being. He found joy in what he did and didn’t consider himself above a particular role or play. After he died, I altered my approach to each role I took. I tried to find the joy in every part. It was my small way of celebrating his life which, in turn, began to enrich my own.

In March, I was hired by Weight Watchers. As a successful member, I qualified for employment and was fast-tracked into their meeting Leader training. For the first time, I found myself in a profession where I could give back to people — to inspire and encourage them to reach their goals, to be part of helping them feel better about themselves, and achieve things they thought impossible. The pay was a mere fraction of what I used to earn, but it opened me up to a wider variety of people. It pulled me out of my own self-imposed exile.

As most everyone reading this knows, Rita was murdered in August. I’ve written before how I felt when it happened, but her death had an impact that took a little longer to manifest. Yes, it opened my eyes to the plight of a city that normally escaped my notice and the nightmarish life of the children she devoted her life to helping. What I didn’t expect was that her loss helped me enjoy Christmas again.

You see, Christmas is not about faith for me. It’s not even about the Pagan origins of the tree, the Winter Solstice, or some fat guy shimmying down my chimney. This year it finally sunk in. Christmas is about love. It’s about the love of family and the time you have together. It’s about the love between friends and the bond you share. It’s about recognizing what you have, even in the face of loss. It’s about loving your time and spending it on things that fulfill you. It’s about finding even the smallest happiness in the darkest of times.

This Christmas I was happier and more enthusiastic. I put up the tree earlier than usual. I was on the roof stringing lights and hanging them all over the yard. I enjoyed friends on Christmas eve and family on the day.

On the 26th, the post-holiday blues began to set in. The end was here, but I was in denial. Finally, a week and a half into January, I knew it all had to come down. Unlike previous years, I wasn’t eager. I wanted to hold onto the season. Sure, I don’t personally need December to appreciate the people in my life, but the world is a different place around Christmas.

I enjoyed the community this year — the feeling of mutual celebration. Instead of dragging me down, it gave me a boost all because of those who lived by example and whose deaths put the punctuation on the sentences. How they lived their lives truly inspired me to do better, reach farther, and be more. To be less insular and more understanding. Perhaps if I can be better, I can in a small way start to fill in the holes created by their losses.

It’s strange when I think about it. When my own parents died, I mourned and moved on, but didn’t make any major changes. Yet, the deaths of two people who were not major players in my life shined a light on something I didn’t see without them.

That, my friends, is a legacy most worthy.

Scott McIntyre

Gotcha! Day redefined

November 3, 2015

larandolph

General 3 Comments

Unlike many adoptive families today, my mum and I have always celebrated my Gotcha! Day with pride knowing that we had a special relationship like no others. So when I went to bed last night, I dreaded waking this morning — my first Gotcha! Day without my mum.

I won’t deny it. This morning was pretty awful. The person with whom I have celebrated every November 3 since 1972, was no longer here. There could be no telephone call, no text, no card, no Facebook status update sharing our mutual admiration for one another. There could be nothing but silence because she was no longer here to share the day with me.

I cried a lot this morning. I sobbed, really — uncontrollable body wracking sobs that brought me crashing to the floor.

And then the silence broke.

Friends from all reaches of the world sent virtual hugs and messages of love. My tears were slowly replaced with smiles, laughter and the reminder that she is still here with me. I carry her love in my heart every minute of every day. It was that love that gathered a small group of my friends together tonight to honor my mum and the foundation that is carrying on her mission.

For two hours, 14 incredible friends and I laughed together while sharing a casual meal at Irving Farm Coffee Roasters on the UWS. As one of the attendees said, “It was so enjoyable tonight. Totally you…relaxed and laid back.” When the evening came to an end, we had raised $1540 for The Rita Langworthy Foundation. Oh yeah. If I failed to mention it, my friends are incredible. Not only are they genuine and loving, but they are some of the most generous human beings on earth.

Thank you Megan, Steven, Nadine, Dan, Allison, Melissa, Marilyn, Jodi, Pam, Nan, Yumee, Yeon-Mee, Mary and Frank, for helping me redefine how I mark my Gotcha! Day by celebrating the bond between my mum and I surrounded by friends.