Picture this: I was sitting at home, minding my own business, when there was a knock on my door. I attribute this to the fact my doorbell doesn’t work, but I digress.
Smokey the Cat beat me to the door in anticipation it was somebody visiting him; it wasn’t. Rather it was a neighborhood kid, Victoria, selling candy bars for charity. For the record, I don’t particularly care for Victoria, her snobby mother, or her crazy father; she should consider herself lucky I even answered the door.
These confections were milk chocolate adorned with pecans, foil wrapped, and covered in a paper outer-wrap proudly announcing the charity for which they were being sold. All this for only $3 per bar. A bit pricey, but it was for school-related charity.
I decided to buy two, against my better judgment, lest those wrappers contain phone numbers for endocrinologists who tend to diabetes. But I digress, again.
It seems as though these little miscreants also sell other stuff throughout the year, too. I’ve had kids try to sell me Christmas cards, grilling accessories, and wrapping paper. I would think these kids should be home doing homework, hence the name. But no.
After handing over my six bucks,
Now, all this merchandise seems to be fine if you’re a cloistered nun, but not if you are able to roam from store-to-store. All that stuff these charities are selling can be acquired elsewhere, less expensively.
And the intended charities include the school band, athletics, plus educational trips. While this appears noble on the surface, a closer examination is warranted.
I recall something some little thing called “taxes” that I, and nearly everyone else pays annually, that are earmarked for schools and their associated activities.
“But they need more materials for the children in the schools to help the kids become more well-rounded,” you’re probably now shouting at your computer or phone screen.
Sure, but I have no kids.
I wound up chatting with my neighbor who has two school-age kids, in an effort to elicit information about this apparent grift.
He explained that his kids wanted
to play an instrument in the school band, but neither had any musical
experience or instruments. In order to
play, it was easier and less costly for them to get them from the schools. Unfortunately, because of nation-wide budget
cuts, frivolous expenditures such as musical instruments weren’t in the
budget.
The same held true for the football team, basketball, baseball, and swimming teams, as well as educational school trips to museums.
While all this sounded palatable, it was still more money going from my pocket to someone else’s. What could possibly be the benefit for me, and the countless other community members being urged to buy school supplies for strangers?
My neighbor went on to offer, “Playing a musical instrument helps with children’s mathematics skills, participating in sports may encourage better health for longevity, and school trips may promote curiosity for life-long education efforts.”
Nice, I thought. But was it actually helping me, directly?
Let’s assume my neighbor kid, who I’ll call “Bobby,” because his name is Bobby.
Bobby wants to play in the high school band with his buddies. The music teacher tells Bobby the band needs a trombonist, and then gives him a trombone which was partially purchased with my $6 candy purchase.
Very similar to Bobby's trombone
Bobby gets lessons, sheet music, a music stand, plus a trombone. Eventually, Bobby learns how to read music, keep a tempo, and understand music theory, all at the expense of every candy buyer rather than Bobby’s parents.
I’d be okay with this scheme to encourage the populace to pay more in lieu of higher taxes, if I could get a tangible benefit.
Somewhere down the road, let’s assume Bobby becomes a concert trombonist, eventually making a name for himself and being “discovered” by the band Chicago Transit Authority.
Bobby gets hired by
If Bobby remembered where I live when he makes “it big” – or fill in your own scenario with professional football player, politician, movie or television actor, policeman, or even auto mechanic – all of whom likely made their livings off the backs of candy bar purchasers, should stop by my house again.
This time, rather than giving me a receipt for six bucks I should be given a free ticket for a concert, football game, movie pass, or a blind eye (in the case of a cop claiming I’m exceeding the speed limit.)
In many towns, that is called
“community.” Community is rare today,
even in small towns across
Here’s a freebie from me: if you’re not going to repay your debt, please don’t expect me to do it for you. But if you do, I say, “Trombones for everyone!”
