Throughout the month of December, we'll be posting your stories about what "giving back" means to you, and your personal experiences of volunteering your time and talents to help others. You can comment on the stories posted on this page, or submit your own story here.
27 December, 2006
A Different Kind of College Aid...
I'd known about the Fulfillment Fund for years. It's a terrific organization that matches promising 8th graders with mentors who shepherd that student through senior year in high school. The goal is to get those kids from some of the area's poorest neighborhoods into college.
But that five year commitment scared me. What if I moved? What if my work life got too crazy? Finally, I ran out of "what ifs" and simply picked up the phone to volunteer.
It was the best decision I ever made.
I was matched up with Josefina – or Fina as she calls herself now. She'd been with the program a year and a half, waiting for a mentor to come along. Lots of kids are waiting for mentors. We were matched because Fina wanted to be a journalist – a career goal that lasted until she discovered filmmaking. Of course. This is, L.A., isn't it?
Fina wasn't one of those soft, squishy kids who wanted to hang out at the mall together or go to a Dodger game or go rollerblading on the Venice boardwalk. She didn't want to sit around talking about boys or Paris Hilton or the latest fashions. She was all business. And the business was: what can I do to get into college? So we worked on essays. I sat with her mom at every parent teacher conference. Fina and I even took a road tour to check out colleges from Pomona to Sonoma.
In the end, she chose Cal State Northridge for its terrific film department. She's in the middle of her sophomore year, balancing classes and working in the student café. I'm like a proud parent.
And in a year or two, I'll sign up for a new mentee. But in the meantime, what about you? There's a kid like Fina waiting for a mentor like you, right now.
The Fulfillment Fund's Web site
~ From Kitty in Los Angeles
22 December, 2006
Learning and Giving at the Same Time
After I retired, I wanted to find a volunteer opportunity that would offer me a complete change from teaching high school English.
Whales had always fascinated me, but I didn't know very much about them. When I visited the Interpretive Center in Rancho Palos Verdes, I discovered that there was a training program for prospective docents that would teach me about these magnificent mammals of the sea.
After I became qualified, I spent several days a month showing visitors from all over the world around the small museum. On some days, I would be posted outside the building with a "whale wagon." On the patio that overlooks the Pacific, census takers would watch through their powerful binoculars to count the whales as they passed. It was always a thrill to see the spouts off shore, and sometimes the graceful flukes of the whales as they dove into the deep to feed on krill.
It was such a joy to meet all kinds of people and share what I had learned about -- not only gray whales, but other whales such as the blue, humpbacked, and right whales. I also learned quite a lot about the history of the area from the mammoths that used to roam the Palos Verdes Peninsula, the Sepulveda and Domingquez families, and the nearby Point Vicente Lighthouse. It was the kind of volunteer opportunity that was rewarding.
After my arthritis and back pain made it difficult for me to stand for long periods, I became a Rolling Reader. This allowed me to use my skills as a teacher. Each week, I visited an elementary school in Redondo Beach and read to a fourth grade class. I was free to choose books I thought they would enjoy. Often I chose books that coordinated with the teacher's curriculum. Other times, I found wonderful books that coordinated with the holidays, including Channukah and Kwaanza.
In both of these volunteer opportunities, I felt I received more than I gave because I learned a lot, and sharing it with others has given me great joy.
~ From Lindie in Redondo Beach
20 December, 2006
"It taught me that happiness does not always equate with comfort."
I remember one instance while I was attending college 3,000 miles from home. I was at UCLA, and it was Thanksgiving. I couldn't go home to New York, because we couldn't afford the roundtrip airfare more than once a year. I heard about a program in which students were asked to participate in Baja California. It was an opportunity to go south across the border to help build an orphanage in a barrio outside Ensenada.
I had no idea what it entailed, but was curious and signed up.
It turned out to be a thrilling experience, working with other students to help turn a one-time brothel into housing for homeless children.
We had no place to spend the nights, aside from sleeping bags on the ground. We had little money and pretty much sustained ourselves on tortillas and cheese for the 4 days we were there. We worked 12 hour days, building fences, fixing broken down doors, and other tasks I can't seem to recall in detail. We couldn't drink the water for fear of bacterial contamination.
But instead of being totally exhausted and envious of those who got to spend the holiday with their families in more comfortable digs, we were all invigorated by the experience. It taught me that happiness does not always equate with comfort. We knew we had done something that mattered; that many young people would benefit from what we had accompllished, even though they would never know we were responsible. It was truly an unselfish act, and it was something I will never forget.
Years later I've found myself recounting the story to not only my children, but others I meet when something triggers the memory. I don't know if the program still exists, but it should, and not only for college students but for all young people. It not only helps put life in perspective, but provides great memories that you can share with others.
~ From Hettie in Los Angeles
15 December, 2006
"Giving Back Is a Sure Cure for the Holiday Blues"
During one of my first Christmas seasons in Los Angeles, I found myself restlessly rattling around the Leimert Park District like so many other lonely, childless, single, successful, well-educated African American women. I'd been to church that day, but still the anxiety lingered. So I aimlessly cruised around in my paid-for car and fancy clothes, just to keep from going home to my beautifully decorated, but empty, Pasadena townhouse.
Suddenly, I heard music and followed it to a little theatre. I slipped inside to find African American high schoolers playing straight-ahead jazz! I let the music take my mind off of myself as I settled into my seat. I marveled as kid after well-disciplined kid gave up their best performances.
An auction followed. I got caught up in the competitiveness of the bidding, and found myself with a boy's bike on my hands and no kid to give it to. "Maybe Ill give it to the church," I thought.
Later, I spotted a young African American woman and her son sitting at a bus stop as I drove north on Crenshaw. I parked my car and approached her.
"Ma'am, have you finished your Christmas shopping? Do you think your little boy would like a bike for Christmas? I have a brand new one in my car that would just fit your little man. It's yours for the taking," I offered. The woman eyed me as though I'd just loss my mind.
"Honest," I reassured her as we moved toward my car.
The little boy's eyes lit up as he tried the bike out. He just couldn't stop laughing and grinning. Soon their bus arrived. I watched as they strapped the bike to the bus's bike rack and boarded. I drove ahead of the bus and kept my eyes glued to my rear-view mirror as we proceeded up Crenshaw. "Merry Christmas!" I shouted out to my new best friends as I drove on to the 10.
The memory of that little boy's smile took my loneliness away for that entire Christmas season.
This year, that one bike has turned into 50 bikes. Thirty will go to kids whose parents are incarcerated; ten will go to formerly abused teenagers who find themselves in the foster care system, and ten will go to a low-income charter school. My goal is to donate 100 bikes next year.
Giving back is a sure cure for the Holiday Blues.
~ From Doris in Alhambra
14 December, 2006
After Loss, Reaching Out to Help Others
30,000.
It is not my Lotto winnings, or the mileage on my car. It is the average number of suicides per year in the United States.
Suicide ranks higher than homicide as a cause of death. And each suicide leaves behind approximately six people who are directly affected by this tragedy. 180,000+ people per year.
My brother Ed completed his suicide in 2003. Since then, I have become involved in the Survivors After Suicide and Suicide Prevention Center programs at Didi Hirsch Community Mental Health Center in Culver City, CA.
I co-facilitate bereavement groups for suicide loss, write for the SAS newsletter, and am a member of the Suicide Response Team, which is called to the scene of suicides in the city of Los Angeles. I help to educate new phone counselors and group co-facilitators.
I wish I could go back to my complacent yet plodding life before 2003, but I can't.
I can only pray that my efforts will help someone to ease the burden of their loss.
Suicide Hot Lines:
LA and Orange Counties 1-877-727-4747
National 1-800-784-2433
~ From Rick in Studio City
14 December, 2006
My parents taught me about giving back by their examples of hospitality and compassion. At the holidays, my family often visited the charity hospital in Memphis, where we lived, to sing and chat with patients. We had servicemen or students who were far from home stay at our home. On different occasions, my mother opened our home to convalescing friends who had no one else to help them.
In turn, a great thrill for me is being part of imparting the value of giving to my little granddaughter, Gemma. We have begun a tradition at the holidays of shopping for non-perishable food items that can be packed in individual lunch bags with napkins and spoons. She then decorates the bags with stickers, and we deliver them to an organization in town that assists the homeless. Last year after we did this, she drew a picture "for the homeless people" and sent it to me to share.
It's lovely to see the notion of giving trickle down through the generations.
~From Deborah in Redlands
13 December, 2006
A Helping Hand at a Traumatic Time
My most memorable experience of volunteering was the year I spent in the Trauma Intervention Program (TIP). As a volunteer with 52 hours of mandatory training, I wore a pager several days a month and responded to calls from police, fire and hospital personnel when there was a death (or other taumatic loss, such as a house fire).
The first few hours after a traumatic event requires a different and specific skill set from long term grieving. Traumatized people are often in shock, confused, angry, disoriented, and in need of emotional support. If their needs are not cared for, they can often be the victims of what has become known as "the second injury:" perceiving your helpers as uncaring.
At a traffic accident or crime scene, the police need to accomplish certain tasks, which can appear to a traumatized person as "they don't care." Or, if a doctor gives a death notification and immediately rushes off, the grieving person might assume they are heartless. Emergency personnel have come to appreciate TIP as a much-needed support for their organizations.
The TIP volunteer stays with the person and helps them through the maze of those first few horrible hours. The TIP volunteer cares for people emotionally, but also acts as a trained guide and information source. There are often people asking strange questions like "Do you have a mortuary you prefer?" or "Are you open to having your child be an organ donor?" Things most people don't want to think about, but suddenly, they must.
The TIP volunteers I worked with are the most extraordinary and giving people I've ever met. I've seen volunteers spend the entire night in a hospital giving support to complete strangers, then go home, get changed, and go to work. More people should be made aware of the TIP program and support its good work. I hope you never need a TIP volounteer, but if you find yourself in a horrible situation and one of these amazing souls shows up to help you through, you will know just how special they are. It was certainly not the easiest thing I've ever done, but it was by far the most gratifying work I think I could ever do.
For more info, visit The Trauma Intervention Programs, Inc. (TIP Inc.) Web site
~ From Marguerite in Ladera Ranch
13 December, 2006
Family Doesn't Have to Mean Blood
My daughter has taught me the meaning of giving and personal involvement. As a working mother, frankly, I never had much time to think much beyond keeping everything organized for my family. When my daughter Allison finished her degree in Human Services, she became the Assistant Director of the Santa Monica Westside YWCA Transistional Living Program. That's quite a mouthful, but it means that the YWCA provides housing for young women emancipated from foster care who want to continue their education so as to become self-supporting adults. Most of them attend Santa Monica College.
What I didn't know was what the emotional needs of a foster child are. Slowly, over the years, I have stopped being just "Allison's Mom," and am now "GG" the house grandma. This may mean providing emergancy repairs to a graduation gown for a AA degree ceremony; providing embroidered pillowcases to go with the girls' quilts that they earn by finishing the program (thereby providing a personal handmade item to girls who may have never had anything made just for them); giving grandma wisdom to one who is having a hard time finding her way; or helping with fund raising. I am an amateur watercolorist, and from time to time we have an "Art for the House" show & sale. It's a little extra money to meet the unexpected needs of the program.
What I have received in return? The pleasure of having some of these young women continue in my life and the activities of my family. I have several "granddaughters" that will be in my life forever now. I can count on them when I have a need; they can count on me for school advice, a home for Christmas activities, fun lunches, and phone calls.
My family is growing in the most pleasant way. It isn't seasonal, but year 'round.
~ From Faye in Los Angeles
12 December, 2006
Sometimes, We Start with the Personal
Three years ago, my family was faced with the terrifying news that my mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. I live in Los Angeles and my mother lives across the country, in Washington, D.C. I contacted the local chapter of the Alzheimer's Association to see if I could find some educational material on this disease.
Well, the staff and volunteers I encountered were so helpful, informed, and caring that I found myself becoming a volunteer on their Helpline. I have learned how to be a long-distance caregiver for my Mom, and have been able to keep up-to-date on Alzheimer-related research. I've also learned what products, resources, and services are available for Alzheimer's patients and caregivers. Most importantly, I've been able to share this knowledge with those who call our Helpline.
Alzheimer's is indeed a dread disease, but knowing that information, resources, and support are available makes it easier to deal with the situations that arise.
~ From Amy in Los Angeles
11 December, 2006
A few Saturdays ago, I went with about 30 other volunteers to a dirt-poor neighborhood on the outskirts of Tijuana, where we braved sunburn and heatstroke in an attempt to transform a rather large pile of building materials into a small house for a low-income family.
By the time we broke for lunch, the walls were up, and the roof was starting to look like a roof. Lunch, consisting of rice, beans, and tortillas, was provided by members of the local community. It was absolutely delicious!
By 5:00, the house was done, and one of the organizers told us about the family who were to receive the house. We learned about how they earned the house, working on various projects to benefit the local community. And then we met them.
Through an interpreter, they thanked us, telling us about how much difference the house would make in their struggle for economic stability. Then they said they wanted to give us something in return. They brought out a ceramic statue of the Virgin Mary, and told us about how, years ago, it had been blessed by a priest, and how, over the years, it had served as inspiration in their prayers for a better life. It was obviously one of their most treasured possessions. But because we had helped to answer some of those prayers, they wanted us to have it.
There was some discussion that that we should not accept so precious a gift. I just snuck off behind the outhouse. After all, us macho construction-worker types simply cannot afford to be seen getting all teary-eyed in public.
The organization that makes it happen is called Corazon. They fight poverty by educating children, by providing adults with job training, by building homes for families, and most importantly, by organizing people to work together as a community to solve problems like day care and elder care. And unlike the way it works with most volunteer organizations, there are no hand-outs. Recipients of these benefits are required to earn them, by contributing a significant amount of their own time and effort.
~ From Ed in Culver City
6 December, 2006
A Different Approach to Holiday Gifts
Last year, instead of buying holiday gifts for my family, I made donations in their names to several charities. For my mother, a two-time breast cancer survivor, I gave to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. I planted two trees with Tree People for my dad and stepmom. In honor of my oldest brother, a new doctor, I gave to Doctors Without Borders. For another brother, Habitat for Humanity, and for the third brother -- the most politically-active of us all -- Amnesty International. Surprisingly, no one said, "But I wanted STUFF." Everyone thought it was a great idea, and I was able to do it all online in about an hour. No malls, no parking lots... but a lot of good holiday feelings.
~ From Amanda in Pasadena
6 December, 2006
I know I should do this more often – there's always lots of excuses and other things to do – but for the past 15 years, I have made time to do one particular act, in the two or three days before Christmas Day: I donate a pint of blood.
Part of the reason I do this is that in the two weeks between December 22 and January 5, blood banks are at their lowest level of stock of whole blood and blood parts in the year. Everyone is too busy with the holiday celebrations to donate blood.
More importantly, though, if I am to celebrate the birth of the Christ, who is a major part of giving me life (in my theology, at least), giving something as a way to help give life to someone else is the most important gift I can give.
My local blood bank has come to expect me at this time every year.
~ From Reverend Tom in Los Angeles
4 December, 2006
My dog Lucy and I volunteer at the UCLA Hospital on the Cardiac Intensive Care ward. The hospital has a program called the People Animal Connection (PAC), which allows specially trained dogs with their handler/owners to visit patients.
We adopted Lucy as a puppy from a rescue organization and did basic obedience training with her. In order to participate in the program, Lucy had to pass a behavior analysis and obedience test with the Delta Society. Delta certifies that the dogs meet strict behavior criteria required for their jobs, are not aggressive in any way, and are totally obedient to their handlers.
Lucy was only two years old at the time so I didn't hold out high expectations that she would pass. She was one of 6 dogs out of 16 who passed. I was thrilled.
Lucy and I visit the hospital two Sunday afternoons a month. When we arrive at the hospital, we pass through the main lobby, and Lucy looks for people she thinks need a dog visit. She leads me over to families or people sitting by themselves with whom she has established connected. Many times we hear how surprised people are to see a dog in the hospital. But they all greet her with open arms.
I never know what sort of situation we will find when we stop to visit. Many times, it is a large family gathered together following a serious illness or injury of a loved one, or it might be a single adult waiting for word on a family member. Having Lucy visit in these situations allows the families a safe place to put their emotions. A lot of times, they want to show strength to others and not let their emotions out. Lucy becomes a safe place to let those emotions go.
When we enter the cardiac ward, the nursing staff all call out greetings and gather around to get their special attention from Lucy. Patients whose doctors have pre-approved a dog visit watch out their doors to catch a glimpse of her. Once in the room, I spread a sheet on their bed and Lucy jumps up onto the bed. She jumps just where I direct her to go. From there, she can wiggle on her tummy to a better position for her visit.
Many patients are hospitalized for long periods of time. Having a dog in the room entirely changes the atmosphere for them. We experience smiles, laughter, and stories about dogs they have owned. I take Polaroid pictures of them with Lucy, as a remembrance of their visit.
Animals bring such joy to our lives. I experience it each and every time we make our Sunday afternoon visits. I wouldn't change it for anything.
~From Linda in Rolling Hills estates
1 December, 2006
Growing up in East L.A., money was scarce and toys were even scarcer. My parents came from Mexico; mom was a former farm laborer, dad worked the assembly line at GMC in Van Nuys. My dad taught us that there would always be people with more money than us as well as people with a lot less, and it was our responsibility to help those with less. So twice a year he'd make us gather all our unwanted toys and clothes and we'd drive down to the orphanage in Tecate, Mexico, where my siblings and I would donate our small bundles to those who truly needed it more than we did.
Small, simple acts by a poor family to poorer children. But it instilled in us the resolve to make the world a little bit better, one child at a time. Even with our busy lives, my siblings and I have always found the time for social responsibility, as well as public political discourse and activism, as this is the only way to truly have our voices heard and effect change at a higher, broader level.
For me, giving back means remembering there will always be people with more money than me. But they aren't the ones I'm concerned about.
~ From Marina in Los Angeles
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