The Spirit of Holiday Giving-by Default

Am I a bad New Yorker because I do not trust the red aproned Salvation Army bell tinkerers? Perhaps too many reports of charity frauds have tarnished me. Or  maybe it's because, in general, the solicitors are a disheveled lot, barely capable of completing only a few weeks of labor per year.

I prefer to give directly and avoid any organized group thumping for a handout- and I'm no charitable purist either. If a homeless man decides to buy a squeeze bottle of low grade booze with my money, I'm okay with that. Too often, charities squander finances in far more unethical ways. So, to me, buying a beer for a homeless vet is superior to sponsoring some "not-for-profit" organization's upgrade to penthouse offices

In fact, I'd prefer to buy a deck of heroin for a struggling musician before I give another penny to those adolescent scam artists looking for a free summer sports vacation. What kind of negligent parent would send their kids into a dangerous intersection to solicit for change anyway? At the end of the day it doesn't matter much because my greatest charity comes from me by default- yes, default.

Just last week I was victimized. Nothing of a serious nature mind you, but my donation was not intended as such. The misfortune made me consider certain thefts as a form of direct charity. After all, when somebody steals your comforter from the laundromat it's hard not to think two immediate thoughts.

1. Why couldn't they have saved me time and money and stolen it BEFORE I put it in the dryer?

2. I guess someone needed it more than I did.

Getting nostalgic, I considered the events in my life when I've furnished items of value to those less fortunate against my will. As a bonus, some items were forcibly donated during the holiday season, which helps foster a heightened sense of goodwill toward all.

Growing up in New York City in the 1980's, my earliest charitable memory came from the great bicycle donation program. While the tradition has declined in modern times, the pathology behind the victimization hasn't changed much.

Enter crying kid. More than likely he was distracted from his unattended item, but often he is a do-gooder from the start. Through the tears, the child describes how he lent his bike to another struggling entrepreneur. The greater lesson learned, again, is how parents fail to discuss the simple admissions procedure for the great bicycle donation program.  As a 10 year old I earned my membership into the program. The event was the genesis of many memorable acts of involuntary charity. Prior to Christmas the following year I donated a boombox to a group of underprivileged young men. This time I chased the bequeathed for one block and took note of the license plate on the getaway car. When questioned by a salty detective about the incident, I couldn't accurately describe the make and model of the car from the rear, so the investigation slipped out of grasp easier than the radio did.

Those two events and the degree of awareness that seeps into New Yorkers, almost by osmosis, molded my charitable streak for nearly a decade -which was fine by me. Since the high school/college years are financially difficult, my charitable efforts were spent donating time more than cash. I never gave up, though, on giving by default. Before donating my Oldsmobile in 1993 I only gave in small quantities.

Here is a short list of some non tax deductible donations:

* A psychology textbook removed from the college cafeteria.

 * A gold bracelet from a public restroom in Boston (another Christmas donation).

* A hip pouch and 300 euros on an overnight train through the French Alps.

* Two cases of eggs stashed in the yard for Halloween mischief, that, through an act of adolescent espionage, was donated to neighborhood rivals.

One week after graduating into the great automobile donation program, my cutlass supreme was recovered only 5 blocks from my home. Everything in the car was undisturbed. Even the tires were intact. Amazed, I leaned on the hood of the car wondering if my membership was rejected, and the car rolled backwards. Looking under the hood I found a completely hollow engine compartment. The engine was worth more than the car, so I was blessed with re-gifting the car for scrap metal.

In recent years my charitable giving has shifted focus. With less free time and more financial flexibility, I have given more monetarily but have physically volunteered less. I have also given less by default as well. I renewed my membership in the automobile donation program in 2010. After spotting an old friend walking only fifty feet away, I hurriedly stepped out of my vehicle with a big smile. Once on the sidewalk, I saw the vehicle door swing open and I watched my Jeep speed off to a more charitable place. Adding to the experience, I was able to obtain  surveillance video of the gift. Now I get to relive that precious moment whenever I like in high definition.

Notwithstanding, I still encourage giving to charity, and prefer to continue giving directly. I guess the take away from a vocation of experiencing grief first hand leaves it's mark. Even as the eyes that view the world have acquired skepticism in years, embracing the spirit of good-will has fortunately never diminished.

I know that spirit will never make me a bad New Yorker.