➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢➢

A LEGACY Mary Cahill Kurpiewski

When I was growing up in Port Richmond, a blue-collar section of Philadelphia near the Delaware River, my mom was always so charitable and religious that I look back and marvel at her examples. The only thing I could not understand was her reluctance to give money to beggars. In the 40´s and 50´s we called homeless people who asked for money...hobos! The rude Mrs. Brennan, our neighbor, referred to them as ´bums´. My mother would say, ¨...if these unfortunate people are hungry, give them food. If you give them money, they will just drink it up!¨ I was not fully aware of the reason for this, but I guessed it was because a couple of her brothers drank a lot and she forbade any alcohol in our home.   

My dad was having a rough time for awhile thinking he might be laid off from his job. One of my aunts suggested ´welfare´. Well, you might have thought he was shot with an arrow. He almost went for the woman´s throat as he shouted, ´Welfare? I don't accept charity! It´s stupid to even suggest I would accept it!´´ After the upset woman left, my dad gave me a sermon. “Never accept charity or let anyone know you´re giving them anything close to charity!¨ I was confused. My mom said to give them food, my dad said to give them something without them knowing it. Okay?? I really never thought of charity again as a kid. It was just too stressful.

As an adult, I donated to my church and volunteered my time. I really never gave cash to any homeless people directly. But one day I saw this woman in the supermarket. She wore shabby clothes and was quite disheveled. She pushed a shopping cart and walked up and down each aisle. The poor woman looked at many things but put nothing in her basket. As she went outside, without any purchases, she just stood in the phone booth. I realized she was hungry and had no money to buy anything.

As I approached my car, I leaned over. I had a twenty dollar bill, my only money until next pay day, rolled in my hand. As I stood, I caught her eye and asked her if she had dropped this bill. Excitedly, she said, ¨Oh, yes, I think I did!¨ As she eagerly took the bill, she thanked me and rushed back into the store. I think I did as I was instructed so long ago, I indirectly gave her food and she didn't know it was from me. I felt better!

Once I was in a fast-food place having coffee. At the next table there were three teens with Down Syndrome. They seemed to be enjoying their time together. They were sharing a few bags of fries and taking turns slurping from the same soda. A fourth friend entered and asked if he could join them. He reached for a fry. They said they didn't have any more, so they began putting their change together but couldn't come up with enough to buy more. The friend began taking coins from his pocket and re-counting. As they concentrated on the task at hand, I leaned over and tossed a ten dollar bill under their table. I then asked them if they had dropped the paper on the floor. As they glanced down, one of the girls shrieked and said to me, ¨Thanks so much, I think I must have dropped it!¨ They all immediately rushed up to the counter and came back with plenty of food for everyone.

Over the years, I have done my little act many times. The lesson my mother and dad had instilled in me was stretched to the limit at times when I wasn't sure where the ´found money´ would be spent, but I always felt good that the receiver did not realize they were taking charity whether or not they wanted it.

Last week, as I was looking for a parking spot outside a shoe shop, I tried to get as close to the entrance as possible since it had been pouring rain all day. I spotted an elderly gentleman sitting in the corner on a ledge under an awning. He was trying to keep his worn clothes as dry as possible with newspaper. I went into the store and kept thinking about him. I decided to forget about the shoes and give him the money instead. I hurried to my car and wondered how I would get the money to him since he was back so far against the wall.

As I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw him struggle to get up. I backed up just as he started his feeble walk to cross in front of me. As he passed, I rolled down my window and tossed a tissue with the money inside. I hollered to him, ¨Sir, I think you just dropped a note or a piece of paper on the ground!?¨

He shrugged his shoulders, and stooped over to pick up the bill I had just tossed. He walked back to my window and with a warm smile on his lined face, winked and said, ¨God bless you, Lady!¨ I said, ¨I´m sorry, sir, but it was just lying on the ground. It's not from me!¨ He winked again and hollering over the noise from the torrential rain, he said, ¨The rain has been coming down for hours and this money is dry as a bone and the tissue smells as sweet as you! God bless you for your sweet charity!¨

I will never forget that moment---”Mom, I think he was going to drink it up--sorry! And, sorry to you, Daddy. He knew it was charity but was grateful just the same.”

====================================================================

LOOKING FORWARD---I still do my little ´wrap and rolll' gesture and it makes me, I think, feel better than the recipients as I try to carry on my parents’ ‘LEGACY’.

====================='===============================================