The Sally Ann Kettle
Here I am, a nice Jewish girl, standing behind The Salvation Army Christmas Kettle in the local mall. It’s Friday afternon and my art group has volunteered to take turns manning the kettle. The kettle is strategically positioned near the mall entrance, next to the donut shop. Repeated wafts of sweet apple turnovers and hot black coffee entice me, as I attempt to focus. I’m ringing brass bells to the beat of Christmas music and trying to catch the attention of passers-by as they dash by me into the mall.
My friend who preceded me estimated that she collected about $70 in donations over the lunch hour. For the first few minutes I’m stymied. I can’t figure out how to inspire shoppers with averted eyes to glance in my direction, let alone reach into the depths of their pockets for loose change.
The clock is ticking and only one toonie and one loonie have been dropped in the kettle slot. At the fifteen minute mark I reach into my pocket and extricate my last cash – two five dollars bills and five loonies. I make a big show of dropping them into the kettle while jingling the bells and smiling at passers-by.
Finally, I get eye contact and a welcoming smile from a young man in his late thirties. He settles on the bench beside me.
On closer examination, I realize that my new admirer is intellectually challenged. His sincerity and warmth have made my day.
By the end of my assigned hour, I have met and chatted with dozens of kind and generous people. There is the elderly couple, dressed in matching jogging suits, who tell me that they are at the mall for their daily walk. There are three teenagers who buy donuts and then walk over, smile, and drop in their change. There is the young single mother, with two preschoolers, who empties her change into the kettle and tells me how grateful she is for the help she received from The Salvation Army the previous Christmas.
“Every penny helps”, I say and thank them.
My shift ends and as I hand over the bells to my friend, Ralph, who is sporting fuzzy reindeer antlers and a colourful Christmas sweater, I notice that somehow the coin level in the kettle has increased significantly. I hear myself humming Jingle Bells, then switch to Fiddler on the Roof and smile to myself as I head home to make Friday night dinner for my family.
After my experience with the Christmas Kettle I became a weekly volunteer in the soup kitchen of The Salvation Army’s Bayside Mission in Barrie, Ont. So many needy people in our community benefit from the relentless work and dedication of The Salvation Army.
Author: Evelyn N. Pollock, Horseshoe Valley, Ontario, Canada
The original story is published in: Chicken Soup for the Soul: O Canada the Wonders of Winter: November 2013
