A do-gooder, but not a do-greater.

Helping other people. Some say it's the reason we're put on earth and that our final judgment, when it comes, is based on how well we served our fellow man.


I'm in trouble.


Truthfully, I do okay. But not great. I could do more. That's the case with most people. Except maybe nuns caring for colonies of lepers and Martin Luther King, Jr., who's birthday is now commemorated with an official day of service. That must gain serious bonus points in heaven. Someday my birthday will be commemorated with a day of complaining about unimportant things and between meal snacking.


This week's question: What is your history of giving back and what do you currently do to serve your community?


As a small kid, I was quick to participate in all those jump rope-a-thons and "Please pledge me a penny per page!" read-a-thons mostly because I'm crazy competitive. It wasn't out of a desire to help.


My parents were teachers serving high schoolers in a tough area. They definitely set a positive example. They were also active in our church where they probably did a lot of good things I don't know about. I do recall caroling to shut-ins (I sang for the cookies) and aiding a family of refugees from Laos. We went on multiple occasions to their tiny apartment above a store. Honestly, I thought their digs were cool with the bare white walls, mix-and-match furniture and exotic smell. When you're that young, anything different holds hypnotic allure.


I started to show a hint of compassion in middle school when my friends and I decided to sponsor a girl from Africa. For me, seventh grade meant blueberry Bubblicious, off-the-shoulder neon mesh tops, jazz shoes, perms and Agnes Nazara from Zimbabwe. Save the Children launched a pretty aggressive ad campaign that ran nonstop during my favorite tv shows (HeMan?!) and eventually wore me down. I recruited some fellow awkward, neon-loving pre-teens to pledge $16/month and soon received a packet with a picture of a grinning Agnes wearing a sweater. (They wear sweaters in Africa?) We were all about our goodness, so very engrossed in our charitable ways, until we weren't. Like the blueberry Bubblicious with its three minutes of flavor. My parents took over payment at some point and then I guess we gave her up.


After my mom died, and before pink ribbons were plastered on everything, our family did a bunch of breast cancer fundraising. Of course, when you are connected to a cause, when it has severely impacted your life, there is passion and a higher level of commitment. (Sorry, Agnes.)


Out of college, I edited the church newsletter, packed lunches for a local shelter and organized the holiday adopt-a-family at work. I went with my boss to deliver the giant pile of gifts to a Baltimore City row home situated smack in the middle of an otherwise abandoned block. While the naive me found charm in the Laotian's cheery walk-up, as a young adult I knew there was no charm for miles. Though probable gunfire. It made me uncomfortable and I'm not proud of that.


When I started freelancing out of my home, there were times I was busy, and there were plenty of times I was not. One day I saw a giant banner outside of a home for the very old and infirmed (truly, really old) that read: "Love is ageless." I called that day and offered to volunteer. Soon I was conducting Monday's "exercise and activity" class. They were so sweet, even if they rarely remembered me week to week. When I was pregnant, they threw me an interesting shower and when Lu was born, "activities and exercise" became "baby love hour." The residents would form a circle of wheelchairs and bedchairs and Lu would play in the center while they "oohed" and "aahed" and sometimes fell asleep. I convinced friends and their babies to come along, too. Once you got past the smell of boiled broccoli and bowel movements, it was really quite special.


In 2004, Gail became involved with the Sandy Rollman Ovarian Cancer Foundation, an incredible organization that offers support for survivors and their families as well as awareness campaigns and fundraising for research. She walked in their first 5K. After Gail passed away, I went to the very next meeting they held for volunteers. I cried my way through it, but I felt compelled to take over where she had left off. Today, Jon serves on the Board and the whole extended family helps with the annual 5K which has grown from less than 100 participants to over 2,000!

Gail and Nicole at the Sandy Rollman Ovarian Cancer Foundation's 5K 

Spring 2006

Click here to register for this year's Sandy Sprint!

I also volunteer at Lu and Edy's elementary school amongst a ton of type A moms. It's fine. I like being present for my children and offering up my limited talents where needed. But I will only dip a toe or two in that pool of politics. It scares me. More than the ghetto.


* * I must give credit to my sister, Gwyn, who helped me recall the refugees' country of origin and confirmed that they lived above a business near the former Kiddie City in Willow Grove. (Maybe that's why I liked it so much!)