Salvation Armey
I have never met Colonel Ernie Peyton in person but I’d know his melodious voice anywhere. Every November his question resonates in my ear, kicking off the holiday season: “Sue, your family has been so generous in the past. Can we count on you this year?” My response is instantaneous. “Of course you can!” We set a date and time and hang up, both of us satisfied that our annual pact has been sealed once again.
What I Remember
It all began when my kids were very young. Whenever we’d pass someone standing by the bright red kettle, valiantly ringing that discordant bell, I’d give the boys some coins or dollar bills to deposit. The older they got, the more I’d tell them about why I thought it was important for us to do this. When they were six, four, and three-years-old I decided that it was time for us to become bell ringers ourselves.
The first year we were assigned to ring in the entryway of a large discount store. The kids quickly grew bored, and our community service project became torturous, not exactly the positive family memory I’d been striving for! Rather than giving up, I decided that we simply needed a more interesting location for bell ringing. The Ithaca Commons, an outdoor mall with plenty of stores, a small playground, and numerous restaurants to buy steaming cups of hot chocolate, became the perfect spot for budding philanthropists with short attention spans.
Like the Christmas postman in the story, nothing ever got in our way the day of our shift. We rang bells in sleet, snow, and rain, even in unseasonably warm temperatures. We supplemented our bells with various band instruments, jangling sleigh bells, or singing Santa hats. We always made sure to say “Thank you” and “Have a great holiday!” to everyone who donated. I tried to make our commitment as enjoyable as possible, stuffing a backpack full of candy canes, Clementine’s, and drinks. “Almost there,” I encouraged when arms became tired from vigorously shaking the bells, donations were few and far between, and noses and toes were frozen solid.
Life lessons about generosity, compassion, and helping others abound. There is the “Christmas miracle” story of the Salvation Army Kettle in an adjoining town that received a valuable gold coin wrapped in a one hundred dollar bill which inspired and excited us. Could our kettle be the next lucky recipient of this anonymous benefactor? Many times passersby took a minute to acknowledge us for our volunteerism. “Good for you!” an elderly woman, leaning heavily on her walker called out as she rolled unsteadily past us. “Thanks for doing this for a good cause,” a middle-aged man in a three-piece suit said, slipping a crisp twenty dollar bill into the narrow slot.
We often had observed that many of the people who dropped coins or wrinkled dollar bills into the red kettle appeared to be the ones who could seemingly least afford to, while others hurried past, looking through us as though we were invisible. When the letter thanking us for our service arrived each January, I would read it out loud so the boys could understand exactly where those coins and bills that they faithfully collected would be going and who would benefit from them.
Two hours a year is a very small commitment that goes a long way. “The Salvation Army saved my life,” a young, clean-shaven man told us after the boys played his favorite holiday carol, Silent Night, on the French horn, trombone, and trumpet. The kids and their friends listened respectfully as he shared some of the details of the drinking and drug problems that led to his being hungry, unemployed, and homeless one year. “They turned me around,” he asserted. “I always put money in the kettle. I wouldn’t be here today without those people.”
One Son’s Reflections
Anyone who has ever spent time with kids knows that they remember certain parts of their childhood far differently than you do. In the interest of fairness I decided to interview my youngest son, Calvin, to see what he recalled. “Every year we’d be out there freezing,” was his first response. “Bank Alley was like a wind tunnel! But we’d always get an ‘intermission’ when you’d let us go into Center Ithaca and warm up and get something hot to drink.” The sound of the bells also made an impression on him. “They were always slightly out of tune with each other. There was no way to make them sound good, no matter how hard we tried.”
Did he see this community service work as an important part of the Christmas season? He thought about this for a moment. “I understood that it was something we did as a family, that there was an expectation there. It gave me a sense of solidarity.” He laughed, “We know that you like traditions and that we can’t keep you away from the ocean in the summer or from the Salvation Army during December. That’s just the way it works!”
There were years when Cal wasn’t thrilled about having to stand in the wet snow watching people walk past without donating anything. But he admitted that the two hour commitment was good for him as well. “What would I have been doing instead? Sitting at home? Helping others out during the holidays is a good thing. Even if no one put money in the kettle at all, it’s still better than doing nothing. At least we were trying to make a difference.”
What did he learn about human nature? Quite a lot, it turns out! Every winter, people hear the bells ringing and they immediately realize that they have to make a choice: to put money in the kettle or to walk on by. The purpose isn’t to make people feel bad or guilty Cal explained, but to signal through a familiar sound that the ringers are there for a good cause and can use any financial assistance that the public wants to give. The Red Kettle Campaign gives people a chance to be generous and a way to feel good about thinking of others, he observed.
Just as I was about to end the interview Calvin added, “It might seem like all you’re doing is standing in the cold ringing a bell but there’s something more to it. It’s kind of like climbing a mountain. There’s no inherent joy in sweating and toiling up a rocky slope but you still find yourself spurred on to do it. It feels like you’re pursuing something greater than your immediate satisfaction. When you’re done with your shift, there’s a sense of accomplishment, like ‘I just did something worthwhile’.”
Epilogue
Cal is a senior in college this year. When the invitation to the Volunteer Recognition Dinner to “celebrate the Red Kettle Campaign” arrived in our mailbox last spring, I called him at school and asked if he wanted to attend with me since we might not get another chance. To my surprise he agreed, and May 19 found us listening to the Salvation Army band play Christmas songs (what else?) as we enjoyed a buffet dinner. Two things really touched me: when they gave us each a tiny red bell as a reminder of the volunteer hours we’ve put in and when they asked people to stand and say how many years they had been ringing and where they were usually stationed. As I rose to my feet, I finally realized the significance of what we’d done and I smiled proudly at my youngest son.
What about Calvin? “I really liked the dinner,” he told me. “It was cool to see how many other people were involved. I didn’t realize that there was a whole community behind it [The Red Kettle Campaign] because we’re always in the same place. I never really saw myself as being devoted to bell ringing but 17 years is a lot of time.” To which I silently added, “Thank you Colonel Peyton. Our little corner of the world is a better place with you in it.”
Get Involved
- Reserve your bell-ringing spot and join in this holiday tradition! Just a few hours can make a difference. Call (585) 754-9913 or register online at www.RegisterToRing.com
- Your partnership will help The Salvation Army of Greater Rochester raise the funds to provide for families in the most need at Christmas and throughout the year!
- To learn more about volunteering as a bell-ringer, visit rochesterny.salvationarmy.org/Empire_RochesterNY/seasonal-volunteering
Sue Henninger is a freelance writer and a regular contributor to family magazines. Contact her at www.SueHenninger.com.
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