Posts Tagged ‘charity’
“I don’t want to throw it away,” he said.
“I’m using that,” added his brother.
The two of them stood amid a pile of items gathered by their mother and me for immediate disposal. The items consisted largely of broken toys, bits of paper, random balls of pet hair, and the occasional paperclip, penny, or well-used band-aid. Their eyes glistened above the dust-laden shine of the freshly swept treasure trove, and they voiced their concerns often and loudly.
“That isn’t garbage!” they squealed in disbelief as they dove into the dumpster of their bedroom floor.
“What if I find the toy?” he said. “I’ll need this!”
“And what about that?” I asked while nodding toward a small bouncing ball that had been chewed in half by one of the dogs. “Why do you need half a bouncing ball?”
“Because I like it!” and this was the answer that became their mantra and applied to everything, for everything was exactly what they liked.
“Do you know what that is?” I asked about whatever this was or that, but they didn’t believe in labels and living life by the definitions of a society that required they part with the occasional thing that they may have once loved, if even for a moment.
“It’s a memory,” one said.
“It’s something to remember,” added the other.
And then we watched an episode of Hoarders.
“Do you want to live like that?” asked their mother.
They did not, and they agreed to part with the pet hair, band-aids, and anything a consensus deemed broken.
“Can’t we give the stuff that works to charity?” asked one.
“Other kids might like it,” added the other.
“Of course,” said their mother. And so we did.
They collected a new layer of clothes too small, toys lacking for attention, and the assorted stuffs of a well-lived childhood. The charity bag doubled the size of the one marked “trash” and we delivered each accordingly.
Something caught my eye as we drove away from the donation center, the lone plastic hand on a broken plastic arm, reaching through the knot of a tied plastic bag. It looked like the last grasp of a drowning man.
“Shouldn’t that arm have been in the trash bag,” I asked.
“No,” replied one son from somewhere in the backseat.
“We found the rest of him,” said the other.
I looked at the bag of treasure my boys had packed for another, the arm poking through just as they had left it, and for one split second between the light and breeze, I thought I saw it waving.
I waved back, just in case.
Today is December 1, 2011 and according to the Mayans, the mustache has ended. This is good news.
Mustaches and my face do not get along. In fact, the only thing that looks worse on my face is a fist (or whatever dirty joke you just came up with). I actually wrote a musical about the experience of growing a mustache for charity and how torn I was about the process. On one lip, I was thrilled to raise money and awareness for Movember and the fight against prostate and testicular cancers — our Dad2.0 team raised over $19,000, and the good people at Philips Norelco are matching $15,000 of that thanks to a series of shaving videos that many of us have made. I would also like to add that Baby Showers for Guys is donating $500 to the team (which includes many of the DadCentric guys!) in the name of their contest winner (which appears to be me!). That’s roughly $35,000 to cancer research just by not shaving. If only all good causes were this lazy, we could find cures for everything!
But the bottom lip is, I look like a real creep with a mustache. Even more than usual.
My wife hated it. It put her on edge and made her meaner than normal. She just assumed I had nothing nice to say.
My kids hated it. They said that it was sharp and itchy. They had no idea.
Society hated it. I couldn’t walk across the school parking lot without people throwing cabbage and pitchforks at me. In other news, my cabbage and pitchfork resale business is doing great.
You’ll catch part of the aforementioned abandoned musical in the clip below. The line was, “I look like I live in my mother’s basement, but that will soon change with this product placement.” And then the Philips Norelco SensoTouch 3D (Model 1250XCC), the Jet Clean system, and the Vacuum Stubble and Beard Trimmer would all get up and dance. It just wasn’t in the budget.
Here is the shaving video I made for Philips Norelco:
I will never shave the second mustache. That one isn’t creepy at all.
And now, a rare photo of me without facial hair:
I must admit, I swore off electric razors a long time ago, but the Norelco worked like a champ. It’s nice to work with products you can believe in. I’m looking at you, my phone service provider.
In case you are concerned that my freshly-shorn lip may catch cold this winter, don’t worry, I’m growing a dogstache. It’s really quite warm:
Thank you to all that participated, donated and restrained themselves from calling the authorities during the Movember campaign. Here’s to hitting cancer where it taint, once and for all.
Disclosure: The Philips Norelco products mentioned in this post were provided for free in exchange for the shaving video embedded above. I would like to thank Philips Norelco for the shaving system and their generous contribution to our Movember team.
It has been a long and awkward ride, and this will not be hitting my pillow.
In Soviet Russia the pillow hit you.
We’ll leave a light on for you.
Also, visit DadCentric for all your holiday needs (actual needs may vary).