Mr. Write's Page

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.

— Henry David Thoreau

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Five years ago, in January 2006, I was newly retired, doing well financially, and enjoying an abundance of free time. I found myself in a pleasant routine of hiking often, traveling liberally, entertaining grandkids regularly, and otherwise doing what I darn well pleased.

But something inside was making me uncomfortable about all that good fortune. I needed to give back somehow. I felt drawn to donate some time, or money, or both, to a worthy cause or two.

It was a noble goal, but charities are tricky. Like most people, I bristle when a high percentage of my donation is skimmed off the top for administration, or worse, before it reaches the intended recipients.

Then I found out about a unique organization called Family-to-Family. With Family-to-Family, 100 percent of your donation goes directly to the recipients. 100 percent.

F-to-F was started in 2002 by a woman in New York, Pam Koner, who became aware of the plight of the working poor in the impoverished community of Pembroke, Illinois.

She was shocked by the lives the families of Pembroke were forced to lead. She asked a local social worker what was the greatest need of the people there.

Food, the social worker told her. Most months, the food runs out before the paycheck arrives.

Koner was determined to make a difference. She obtained a list of the 17 neediest families in Pembroke. Then she convinced 16 of her friends and neighbors to sponsor one of the families. Their task was to send their family a week’s supply of food — canned goods, sugar, flour, etc. — in the third week of every month.

Simple and ingenious. As F-to-F describes it, they connected a family with more to a family with less. No money changed hands; just food.

By the time I signed up in 2006, F-to-F had several hundred donor families linked to recipients in a dozen scattered places. The Atlanta Chapter worked with communities in Kentucky, Louisiana, and New Mexico. I was assigned to a family in Kentucky.

My family consisted of a working mom in her 50s, a disabled husband, and a daughter age 12. They lived in a remote valley in the Appalachians. The mom said it was a beautiful place. Her passion was writing and singing gospel songs.

So, I settled into a routine. Once every two months, I would print out the suggested shopping list, purchase the items, pack and address two boxes, and take them to the home of our chapter boss in Roswell, a suburb of Atlanta.

FedEx provided free shipping, but Roswell is 50 miles away. Driving there every month was a bit much. I settled on every other month.

Each time a food box arrived in Kentucky, someone in the family wrote and thanked me. It was clear that the food items were needed and appreciated.

Then Christmas came, and the situation soured.

At the community in Kentucky, a local Catholic mission served as Family-to-Family’s agent. Our food boxes were addressed to the sponsored family, in care of the mission. The sisters made sure the shipments were delivered correctly and on time.

When I packed the December food box, I included an assortment of Christmas candy and a small gift for the daughter. At the last minute, I placed $100 cash in a sealed envelope addressed to the parents.

I was vaguely aware that sending cash probably was taboo, but hey — it was Christmas.

The first week in January, I got a call from the chapter boss in Roswell. She was passing along a message from the sisters at the mission. The message: sending cash to the families is not allowed.

I confessed that I should have known the rules, and I promised not to do it again.

“But,” I asked, “How did the sisters know about the cash?”

The chapter boss explained that the sisters always opened and inspected the boxes before passing them along to the recipient families.

They did what?

The chapter boss told me that no other F-to-F agents in the country searched the food shipments. Only the sisters at that one mission in Kentucky felt compelled to snoop.

I never did find out what happened to the cash. The family I sponsored denied receiving it. The sisters wouldn’t comment about it.

The chapter boss was willing to blow the whistle and get the F-to-F people in New York involved, but I convinced her to let it go. Whoever got the $100 undoubtedly needed it.

As for the policy of opening and searching the boxes, I was not okay with that.

After stewing about it for a week, I asked to be reassigned to another family in another community.

The chapter boss complied. She assigned my Kentucky family to someone else, and I was introduced to a new family in Louisiana — a single mom who supported two young boys as well as her elderly parents.

The local agent in Louisiana was another Catholic mission. But they had no interest in searching the shipments.

That was in early 2007. I continued to send a monthly food box to the Louisiana family until the end of 2010.

The shipment I sent in December was my last. The Atlanta Chapter of F-to-F has been disbanded.

I’m sad to say that the lousy economy brought the chapter down. At one time, we had 20 donor families. By the end of 2010, only four of us remained.

The chapter boss decided to call it quits after seven years in the position. She said she will look for other ways to invest her time and effort.

I’m not sure what I’ll do next. Family-to-Family now has a couple of “cyber-sponsor” options that I want to check out.

Under one program, you send $30.00 per month to F-to-F, and their agents in the local communities (e.g., the sisters) do the shopping for you.

In another program, the sponsored family receives a $30.00 food coupon at a local grocery store.

Both plans eliminate shipping altogether, which is a huge savings.

In November, when I learned that the chapter was closing, I wrote one last letter to my family in Louisiana. It was difficult, but I got it done.

Over the years, I corresponded with them on and off, but not as regularly as I should have. I always hesitated to intrude, or to pressure them. And anyway, I figured the monthly food shipment did the real talking.

We all have our family dramas, and these folks are no exception.

The mom had divorced the dad long ago, and he remarried. One morning late in 2005, Dad’s new wife picked up the youngest son after school.

Whether or not she was stoned, as the grandma claims, I don’t know. But she lost control, and the car ran off the road.

The boy was injured critically and nearly died. He was hospitalized for months. Today, six years later, he still undergoes regular physical therapy.

In 2009, the grandmother wrote me that her daughter no longer lives with the family. Without explanation, she said that she, the grandmother, had become head of the household. She asked that I simply continue the monthly shipments as before. Which I did.

The grandmother also told me that the youngest boy likes cream of chicken soup, and he adores chocolate in any form. I always made sure my shipments included plenty of both.

Being a Family-to-Family “cyber-sponsor” may have its advantages, but tailoring the food items to the recipient is not one of them.

That bothers me.

The shopping list for my first food shipment, January 2006.

My final food box, decorated by my granddaughters, December 2010.