V is for Volunteering---From Phone Banks to Mahjong Tables

 

Volunteering seems like a no‑brainer for the A to Z Challenge. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few others pick it too. After all, opportunities to volunteer outnumber the do‑gooder types willing to work hard for no money. I'm not sure if I’ve done my share over the years, but I know I’m nowhere near the level of a certain cousin who has always been the Angel of Good Deeds in our family. Her church and the local election board are lucky to have her lifelong devotion. There may be more than one angel lurking on my mother’s side of the family tree. I just don’t know. But my oldest niece may be close contender in the field of education. 

But we do have a very famous volunteer in the family tree. If you like American Revolutionary War history, you might recognize her name: Mercy Otis Warren, the first person to write a history of that war. She was also a ghostwriter for several key men who ended up signing the Declaration of Independence. She knew people in high places, and their correspondence is well preserved. Not so well preserved are the pamphlets she wrote—the ones handed out in the streets to whip up sentiment against the King of England.

My volunteering is a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to my cousin and niece, let alone Mercy. Still, I like to think the political posts I’ve written over the years may have inspired or educated someone. And there were those years in the ’50s when I was a teenager working the phone banks for the Democratic Party on election day. My dad got me into that gig through his union.

My next stint came when I joined a sorority, Beta Sigma Phi. It wasn’t the kind of sorority people picture—no frat houses, no keg parties. It was service‑oriented. Our parties involved tea cups, finger sandwiches and brainstorming ways to serve the community. Back in the ’60s, BSP was a big deal, known for its philanthropy. According to their archives, they “created their own International Funds that donate millions of dollars to health research groups, hunger projects, and other worthwhile causes.” My most vivid memories are of the secret pledge ceremonies, where you were likely to get your fingers burned by hot wax dripping from the candle you held.

In the early ’70s, I volunteered at Planned Parenthood. Mostly I helped with monthly mailings — probably fundraising and updates on the long road to Roe v. Wade. It’s hard to believe those rights are being eroded after all these years. I had known a girl who died days after getting a coat‑hanger abortion, at her father’s insistence—he was also the father of her baby. It was all in her diary. Back then, and even more so now, I believe that abortions should be safe, legal, and rare.

I’ve never claimed to be an altruist selflessly bounding from one good cause to the next, and the ’80s and ’90s proved it. But shortly after the turn of the century, I made up for lost time when I started working for a large website for stroke survivors and caregivers. I mentioned this in an earlier post, so I won’t repeat the details, except to say I worked long hours—many in the middle of the night. My boss was a paraplegic who typed with a forehead pointer and he had worked for NASA before his stroke. But he was demanding, and no matter how many hours I put in, he wanted to pile on more and more responsibilities onto my shoulders. I finally had to quit for my own well‑being. 

A few months later he tried to stop me from writing caregiver articles elsewhere, claiming he had taught me everything I knew. But my caregiving knowledge came from caring for Don and being present at every single one of his therapies and treatments. My x-boss didn’t win the cease‑and‑desist order. Still, it was a sad ending for a relationship that lasted almost six years. 

 Next came a 3-4 year run with a Red Hat Society Chapter that myself and other woman started and we all tried our hands had entertaining at Assisted Living facilities, helping them do arts-and-craft projects at holidays. The chapter grew and so did the length of their fun outings and I had to drop out because I couldn't leave Don alone more than two hours. 

I didn’t volunteer again until after Don died. I answered a call for help at a small‑town museum. I was lonely and thought it might help me make friends. But everyone there had grown up together, and while they were nice, I always got the jobs that required working alone. At the anniversary of my first year, I quit and I didn't try volunteering again until I took over the mahjong group in the Independent Living building where I live now. I taught classes and built the group up and two years ago I organized our first tournament with our sister campus. So no, I’m not the family’s Angels of Good Deeds (both of whom I greatly admire, by the way). But I do keep the Mahjong group running, and around here, that counts for something. ©