The honor society at our high school always sponsored a Salvation Army bucket (kettle? money repository?) outside the local grocery store, usually every evening for a week or two before Christmas. The students signed up to work the door in shifts. My friends and I signed up as a group, because high schoolers don't do anything alone, and because at the time we had the kind of group where if any two of us were doing something, we all did it together. (Although even at the time it seemed to me like 4 teenage girls to 1 bucket was a bit of overkill.)
We showed up that evening for our shift, which probably began around 6 or 7pm and lasted a few hours. It was dark outside, and chilly, and I remember hopping up and down and shivering a lot. We all wore santa hats, although I don't recall where we got them, and we took turns ringing the bell. It was sort of cold and dull, watching people walk in and out of the grocery store, but we would cheer and ring the bell everytime someone gave us any money. It felt like scoring a point in a very close soccer game, and I'm sure the generous individual also got a thrill from the grateful reactions of 4 hyperactive high school girls.
But looking back now, it seems like the donations were few and far between. We found other ways to entertain ourselves during our time in the cold. The grocery store shared a shopping center with a Kmart, a Subway, a Radio Shack, and a video store, so it had a parking lot which was, at the time, the largest in town. This made it a popular place for high school guys with a lot of time and little ambition to park their tricked out Civics and shoot the shit after all the stores closed. It was also apparently a good place for "cruising," a pastime I could never really get behind. In the few hours we represented the Salvation Army outside that grocery store, we saw a particular blue truck drive by over 10 times. After the third time, we started calling out the number each time he went by. At the tenth time, we all yelled "TEN!" and rang the bell and jumped up and down, like we were all extras on a Sesame Street segment with The Count. I can only imagine that either the guy was oblivious, or that he was encouraged by the thought of having his very own group of cheerleaders.
Obviously, this is one of my favorite Christmas memories. By extension, Salvation Army bell-ringers have become one of my favorite things about Christmas. Every time I see one, I'm reminded of the fun and excitement of ringing a bell, shouting and harassing shoppers. It's like being a town cryer with no news and getting paid anyway. It's like being Backwards Santa: instead of giving presents, you take money, and instead of being secretive about it, your goal is to be undeniably noticeable. It's awesome. But it also reminds me of how cold it was outside, how frustrating it was when it seemed like too much time was passing between donations and all people did was walk by without making eye contact. And I think that maybe I wouldn't have had so much fun if I hadn't had 3 of my best friends there with me.
So a couple of weeks ago I stopped by WalMart on my way to my parents' house. There was a Salvation Army guy out front, and I immediately felt the old familiar kinship, the warm nostalgia in my tummy. He seemed about my age, maybe a few years older. He also seemed to be a little... less attentive than your average bear, but he cheerfully wished everyone that exited the store a good night, regardless of whether or not they donated any money. I smiled at him on my way in (sadly, he didn't have a santa hat), and on my way out I took all the $1 bills I had in my wallet (it was probably only $3 or $4) and put them in his bucket. He said "Have a good night!" just like he had said to everyone else, but when he realized what I was doing - and that it was REAL CASH MONEY, no less - he got this adorably surprised look on his face and said, "Thanks! Have a... have a great Thanksgiving!" And I said, "You too!"
And even though I don't even know what awesome things the Salvation Army is going to do with my $4, that awesome look on my fellow bell-ringer's face made my empty wallet totally worthwhile. And I smiled the whole way home.
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