Thirty-four dollars

What can you buy with thrity-four dollars? You could treat a friend or two (depending where you go) to lunch. You could get a pedicure and leave a lousy tip. You could, according to my daughter, download a whole bunch of music for your ipod. Chad and I could see a movie, but probably have to cough up more moolah for Twizzlers and popcorn. Or, according to my boys, you could buy eleven packs of Yu-gi-oh cards OR the latest bionicle's motorcyle. Hmmm...

Why is thirty-four dollars on my mind, you ask? Here's the story. My Grandma's brother, Joe, 88, recently passed away. He went downhill quick: sick at Christmas, trouble swallowing, then pneumonia, then a feeding tube, two surgeries, paliative care, and days where we knew he was gone but he was just lying there, lingering. Bless his heart; he was such a vibrant, active man. To see him just lying there was hard on all of us. That wasn't the Uncle Joe we knew and loved.

One morning, I made my way up to the fourth floor of Moses Cone to sit with Uncle Joe before I had to go to work. When I walked up to his room, the family of the lady across the way was in the hall crying. She had just passed. It just touched me. I went on into Uncle Joe's room, sad from seeing their pain, sad to see Uncle Joe lying there, breathing so uncomfortably, eyes closed, not knowing I was even there. On the table next to the hospital bed was a plant and a card. "Mr. Joe." I opened it to read it to him, and out fell thirty-four dollars. The plant was from the folks at Harris Teeter, and the card was signed from each one. "We miss you," "Get better, we miss seeing you," "From your favorite meat man." I bet there were twenty or more well-wishes, each from a different employee who had become one of Uncle Joe's friends. Why did they send him money? I have no idea. Obviously, quite a few of them contributed because it was made up of fives and ones, a little from each friend.


Friend. That's what he called everyone. "How are you today, my friend?" What a personality. Uncle Joe was quite the character. He had many conspiracy theories. Never trusting banks, he liked to squirrel away money in jars buried in the back yard, or wrapped in aluminum foil in the freezer, or in envelopes taped to the under-side of kitchen cabinets. He thought city water at my Grandma's house was "dirty," so each day, when he visited her for lunch, he would bring his own ice-cubes, even though he lived right across the street (same water). He loved new shoes and always sported a new jacket or cap. He fed any cat he saw, so eventually every stray cat within a five mile radius of his place knew where to score dinner. And each Christmas, without much ado, Uncle Joe would hand us envelopes. Fifty, a hundred, we never knew. Once he handed my Grandma an envelope with ten-thousand dollars.

Remember that old word, dapper? Uncle Joe was dapper. And charming. So charming that he knew all the workers at "the market." (The Harris Teeter closest to him.) And he was good with the ladies, always having me make them chocolate popcorn for each special occasion. In fact, the number of his ladies started at around 10, but soon grew to 50 or 60. I could set my watch by his call. "Wendy, it's almost Valentine's..can you make me some popcorn for my ladies? I don't want to trouble you."

Once, at Christmas-time, Uncle Joe ordered popcorn, and asked me to write his name on a tag so everyone would know who it was from. I made cute little tags and wrote "Love, Joe." When he called me for his Valentine order, he got onto me. "Now listen, don't you go writing Love, Joe on these. I don't love all these women." I will so miss him.

The Sunday after his memorial service, my mom and I made tons of popcorn, and set up pictures of Uncle Joe on the table at Dolan Manor where he lived. We invited all the residents for one more "Valentine" from, not love, Joe.

So what to do with this thirty-four dollars? I have thought and thought about it. I want to do something that would truly honor his giving spirit. I posted it on Facebook the other day, and thanks, by the way, for the suggestions. Here's what I've decided to do. I went to the school today where my boys go, and asked the secretary (who is wonderful) to help me with my plan. I told her I wanted to start with thirty-four dollars and make it grow. I asked her to find me a kid who has it rough, a family who needs a little help, someone, maybe a single mom, who is working hard but just not making it. Then I want to anonymously send them a card each month, along with thrity-four dollars. My kids will be able to donate a portion of their allowance if they choose, and we will mail it through the secretary so no one will know who it is actually from. She will be our go-between.

I know thirty-four dollars is not a lot of money, but when you're struggling, sometimes the smallest help, helps. I have been there. I know how it feels to not know how the heck I'm gonna make it to the next payday. I have been a single mom. Once, when I was struggling, Uncle Joe handed me an envelope. Inside was $100. I have to tell you, that was the biggest $100 I ever received. Right when I needed it the most. A young customer told me the other day, how she wanted to one day, "have what you have, a place like this." That hit me like a ton of bricks. Sometimes I look at what I have and think it's not enough. So each month, when I put that thirty-four dollars in that envelope and seal it up, I'll be thinking just how much I do have, how blessed I truly am. And thanking my Uncle Joe up in heaven for teaching me how important it is to give.