More than just a day

Riff Raff, by Michael Tilley
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The plan for this essay was to pontificate broadly on some terrific issue of the day on which my self-absorbed awareness had crafted a clever and, of course, forthright collection of sentences that would surely set the matter straight — whatever matter it was and whatever straightness was required.

Plans come. Plans go. This one went.

The previous plan for this essay went about a millisecond after reviewing a collection of photos from the 2011 Fort Smith Area United Way Day of Caring event.

The photos were/are great, and redirection came from the knowledge that each year hundreds of volunteers agree to engage in what can be tough labor that helps area social service organizations.

In the spirit of full disclosure, my wife is the former executive director of the Fort Smith area United Way. Not only has she spent more than 15 years doing what she can to delay my self-destruction, she spent many years improving the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in a six-county area.

That said, please know I’d be moved by the actions of these Day of Caring volunteers without that connection.

This year, more than 900 volunteers each provided at least four hours of labor at 71 organizations in western Arkansas and eastern Oklahoma. They painted, they cleaned, they refurbished landscape areas, they fixed swing sets, they hauled off trash, they boxed up donated food for delivery … they did many things, willingly and cheerfully, to directly or indirectly help those who can’t do for themselves.

Sure, it’s popular in some circles to believe that “those people” who need help are lazy or are selfish or addicted or are welfare system-abusers or are somehow unwilling to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and get with the program and get on the American Dream bandwagon.

Sure, some folks are beyond help. But a great majority of people in our region who need social service help are just two or three or fewer paychecks from where you are now. Don’t think that hyperbole. It can happen. It happens.

In early 2008, my wife resigned her relatively good-paying position at the United Way to pursue another career that would not produce a steady income for at least two years. Two days before her publicized last day, a local newspaper for which I worked informed me that my services were no longer needed. Our last days on our respective jobs became the same day, and we went from a two-income family (two daughters) to a no-income family at the end of June 2008. Life got real, real fast. It happens.

And that happened when the unemployment rate in the metro area was 4.9%, and the number of unemployed in the area totaled 6,910. Fast forward to today, when the February unemployment rate in the Fort Smith area was 9.1% and the number of unemployed totaled 12,214.

Our family was lucky (My wife says we were blessed.) We had and have great support from our extended family, and had a few business breaks. But when the number of unemployed in an area increases from 6,910 to 12,214, the odds are against everyone being lucky. Or blessed.

And possibly because of that background, I found myself immediately and surprisingly moved in that millisecond after seeing the Day of Caring photos. Not only was I moved by the generosity of the volunteers, but emotion also came from the knowledge that without a lucky break or two, their generosity may have proven an unearned benefit to me and my family.

But, as my wife frequently reminds, it’s not about me.

It is certainly about the immediate world around us. It is about the intangible and inestimable impact of incalculable generosity. We can calculate the impact of 900 volunteers who, earning an estimated average of $15 an hour, donate roughly $55,000 in labor — paid by their employers — to the 71 organizations in just one morning of work. That’s just a small investment in a belief that we can, and should, create a better future for people we’ve never met.

Considering the thousands of young men and women who benefit from the organizations who benefit from the Day of Caring work, we’d be unrealistic, if not heartless, to think a future astronaut, or scientist, or superb soldier, or U.S. Senator or, more importantly, a good parent, is not a product of this one day of selfless community interaction. It might be referred to as a Day of Caring, but I submit it should be considered a Lifetime of Impact.

Knowing it impossible to write 900 or so “Thank You” notes, I hope the volunteers and companies who gave of their time and employees, respectively, will accept this simple essay as a sincere note of gratitude on behalf of those who may yet be too young or too distressed-in-the-moment to understand what you do for them.