What can a person in my situation want for Christmas? Would you believe my letter to Santa will be a request for less mail?
Let me explain:
Nobody in the private sector could possibly receive more mail than my family. There was a time when we’d rush to the mailbox and sometimes receive a letter, an actual hand-written (or even typed or computer-generated) letter bearing a real signature.
Nowadays, the 40 pounds of stuff that arrives daily in our mailbox consists of a dozen catalogs. L.L. Bean, in particular, appears to be publishing a catalog du jour. How many of you buy a bedspread a month, draperies every seven days, pillows by the dozen and sweaters in yearly lots?
One phone or Internet order spawns zillions of catalogs. How many toys can a child play with? Yes, we know: one of the rules of raising kids is that they all want to play with the same toy at the same time.
This holiday season we’re been hit by Hard-to-Find Tools, Spillsbury, Domestications, ad infinitum. How many of you desire to order Sen-Sen breath squares from The Country Store each month?
Part of that bulk comes in the form of requests for donations.
Didn’t America used to have a shortage of natural resources, with the result that we tried to recycle everything? At Highlands, for a few years, woe unto anyone tossing a sheet of paper without first using the back side and then placing it into the recycle bin.
But back to what comes in the mail:
During a feel-good moment that follows a tax refund, I contributed a modest amount to four or five charities whose solicitations had arrived in my box. Soon, charities I’d never heard of added me to their mailing list. Usually there’d be a gift, to make me feel guilty. I’ve received many mailing labels, crosses, bookmarks, greeting cards, calendars and scratch pads. My conviction that these charities sell or otherwise exchange mailing lists was confirmed after we got many mailing labels–all with our previous address (we moved one house west) and a tell-tale incorrect ZIP-plus-four number.
One perhaps doesn’t realize how many charities there are. Our list includes orphanages and “ranches” for boys and girls. Some solicitations are to help the impoverished, people with birth defects, people suffering various diseases. We even get solicitations from groups of different faiths from ours.
I used to think the Red Cross, American Cancer Society, American Heart Assn. and the Easter Seals foundations comprised most of the charities. Not so. Once you’re on the list, you get acquainted with dozens.
There are a number of police-fraternal fund raisers which exchange decals for donations. The decals get displayed prominently on windshields, but their presence must not be construed as implying special privileges. Charities surely invoke the spirit of the national motto: E pluribus unum–out of one, many.
So this year, we’re faced with a difficult decision: how do we distribute the limited funds we’re able to donate?
Of course, whether donations to a charity are tax-deductible is a factor. But what about the fine print that comes, by law, from some organizations that do not exactly qualify as tax-deductible, and whose administrative expenses consume 85 cents of every dollar? We’re not discouraging giving but simply relating a woeful tale of being inundated.
Churches remain great and extremely efficient institutions for giving. The recently enacted take-me-off-your-list legislation has curtailed some of the unwanted phone calls, seeking money. That may account for the rise in mail solicitations. In haste, I recently sent my final check to a charity, clearly marked “final donation–do not call again” on the check and scrawled the same words on the envelope. A week later the same charity sent a letter which implied, “We assume that since you asked us not to call anymore, it’s okay to write.”
My difficulty is in being a softie when it comes to getting mail and phone calls from people who butcher my name, calling me something like “True-jell-oh” or spelling it “Traheel.” But yet, never one to ignore a person, and reasoning that everyone has a right to make a living, invariably, I listen to their spiel or read their appeal. And perhaps that’s why I’ve felt that I have been supporting some of these charities single-checkedly.
This tale contains no moral, no advice on how to achieve success. However, I am tempted to do as one man did a few years back: He stored every solicitation and magazine he received for an entire year, which filled several gunny sacks. He photographed the whole lot on Dec. 31.
That gives me an idea. But I’ll probably need a U-Haul to store the stuff. And the danger might be in opening Pandora’s Box anew and being hit by a scad of hauling catalogs each week.