Silence Is Golden

This time of year is big for solicitations. Today, among many, I received one addressed in one of those scripty-looking, blue ball-point-pennish fonts that on a cursory glance appear hand-written. I actually thought it was for a second, until I checked the return address and saw the name "Father Scott Donahue." Since I don't know any Fathers I concluded it was junk mail. But, loving junk mail as I do I opened it to read possibly the worst pitch letter salutation ever: Dear Andrea, I picked you specially to receive this letter.  And I'm praying I was right.

Moving on, I opened my second letter from the American Lung Association in as many weeks. This one said URGENT REMINDER in red on the front of the envelope. Inside were more Christmas Seals, more personalized return address labels, gift labels and another note pad similar to the one they sent me earlier this month, only imprinted with a sprig of holly at the top instead of a turkey. Again, I did not bite, despite how generous they were.

In this season of charitable giving, I pretend to be a rich philanthropist and pick my needy carefully. If they send me cards or note pads or address labels or nickels or letters from starving children, I pass. My favorite is St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. Years ago they asked for my preferences and I said I never wanted to get mail from them ever again. I haven't heard a peep out of them since. That's my kind of charity.