Glory Ho

Altruism is trendy in the United States these days. Volunteering is at an all-time societal high, sitting on a non-profit board is a resume builder, and fundraising committee participation is practically required for parents. Charity, now considered somewhat of a band-aid has stepped aside for philanthropy, which attacks society’s underlying problems. God bless Sally Struthers for lying such a firm foundation, but now, instead of sending a check to that child named Udugu on Channel 11, you can loan him money to start a business selling fruit. . . .instead of providing twenty cents a day to farmer in Columbia, you can buy a Starbucks frapuccino to support fair trade. There are coat drives, blood drives, shoe drives and turkey drives. People even escape for pre-packaged, third-world, volunteer experiences. And they pay a hefty price. Feeling better about yourself, while getting a shot of Mt. Kilamanjaro at sunset, isn’t cheap.What’s it all about? Why do people volunteer? We want to help. To learn a little bit about humanity—how the other side might be living, breathing and buying groceries. But we’re also trying to erase guilt about our privileged life and fulfill our own need to be helpful. We’re hungry for self-discovery, eager to question our own values and ambitions through introspection.

I’m no different. When joining the Peace Corps, I wanted to make a mark on the world AND serve myself a scoop of personal growth–that manual-free kind of evolution, which chips away at whatever you might be hiding behind your own poster of Raquel Welch. A wall. Impatience. Materialism. Self-absorption. Whatever.

Well, it happened. I came to change Bulgaria, and I think maybe I have. But mostly, Bulgaria has changed me. The problem? I’m afraid I may have served myself more than I served this country. So, does that make my service a primarily selfish endeavor? And if so, does that self-service wash away the goodness?

I hope the answer is no. But I think that highly depends on what I do with my “benefits”, post-volunteerism. Because it’s immediately after our good deeds are done, where the whole concept sometimes loses validity, beginning to resemble that weekly church habit. Often, once we’re energized, satisfied that we’ve somehow “given back” or been assigned penance, we head back to our busy, unbalanced lives to once again, build up the guilt or lose the missing piece which will make us return. It’s an endless cycle of extreme emotions which doesn’t achieve any kind of peace.

So what’s the solution? Simple. Not easy, but simple. To maintain the nobility of my endeavors, I should fold my newest lessons and values into every day life — exhibiting the generosity or kindness or patience or repentance on a regular basis.

You know, taking only what I need. Waiting without huffing at the post office. Picking up the toy for the stressed out mother in aisle two. Withholding the pernicious comment about that hideous dress. Tipping my grumpy waitress, who just might be a single mom, a few quarters more. Being kind to my husband after a difficult day. Taking responsibility for my own happiness. Becoming a better wife, daughter, friend, stranger, sister, driver, customer, colleague, neighbor.

Recently, Michael was researching something called The Long Tail. It’s a term to describe an economic and business model where products that are in low demand or have low sales volume can collectively make up a market share that rivals or exceeds the relatively few current bestsellers and blockbusters.

Seems like The Long Tail might be applicable to benevolence, too. Maybe if I remember to spread just a little bit of goodwill over a bigger sector of society, perhaps I can overcome my self-service and continue to make a difference. Maybe an even bigger one.