CITIZENS OF THE WORLD: "Have a Cow, already."
A charity that needs no charity? An organization that does not require you to plunk down a big fat donation, in order for the cause to thrive? Force-multiplier philanthropy?
It all started on an airplane. I was flying to visit my parents, who were travelling overseas at the time. We had explored the world together as a family, but I was an adult now, and we were living separate lives. It was always exciting to meet up with them in foreign ports o’ call. Life growing up as an Air Force brat had been amazing--nothing like described in Mary Wertsch’s book “Military Brats”, with its research methods that defy reason and credibility. I have known many, many military families, and virtually none of the fathers were Great Santinis. Life was always an adventure. And it was wonderful.
So, when on that plane, I found myself surrounded by a gaggle of kids, all mid-teens, wearing name tags (organization’s name withheld), I realized that this group was going to get to experience Europe for the first time--and I have to admit, I was envious. I could travel to Europe, but I could never see it for the first time again. I had lost my tourist virginity.
What pompous talk that sounds like, re-reading it, when I had lived in L.A. for a long time, and people bent on helping underprivileged children were stunned by the fact that thousands of kids in this country live ten or fifteen miles from the ocean, and have never seen it. Never felt the sand between their toes, or whooped with delight as a wave knocks them over while they stand, defiant, in the surf.
So of course, I got to talking with all the kids. It was a long flight, and we all became good friends. But one question I asked them stuck with me more than any other: “How much does this whole thing cost?” I asked. “Oh, about six thousand dollars”, they responded casually, with the tone of young people who have never had to contemplate price tags that are prohibitive to so many families: the cost of music lessons, karate lessons, camp, family vacations, private school, college tuition, etcetera. I was really happy for the kids. But I kept thinking about all the kids who would never get to make a trip like that. Kids who had never made it ten miles out of the ghetto, the ‘hood, the barrio. Whose fault is that? In this context, it doesn’t really matter. Not to the kid, who is just deprived. Deprived. We now leave that plane flight, and I withhold the name of that organization here, because it is a very fine organization; I have a friend who works passionately as one of their coordinators, and I would hate to inadvertently cast aspersions.
We are now at a Tony Robbins seminar, in Hawaii, where I have occasion to meet a bunch of former gang bangers, girls as well as boys, and they are about the same age as the Europe-bound kids on the plane. “What got you out of gangs?” I asked. And no, it wasn’t Tony Robbins walking his long old tall legs into the bad part of town and lifting them up. But he certainly was kind enough to cover their costs for the week long seminar in Hawaii. “I held my best friend while he died. He had been shot. He was my last friend. Three other ones got killed too.” Sobering words. And the words haunt me now, because one of the guys who currently works for me, who I consider a good friend, tells me about how his dad is dead, his mom in prison, and his best friend in prison for life. This young man has made geographical moves to stay away from crime buddies. But at this rate, he is never going to see the world. Never see more than another impoverished neighborhood. More importantly, he will never achieve his often articulated dream of helping at-risk kids. He’s somewhat at risk himself: he has no car, has a bit of a record (just minor stuff: a doobie in his car, that kind of thing), and sometimes doesn’t know how to get out of his own way. Why? Not because he isn’t smart, not because he’s a bad boy, and not because he doesn’t have a little education of his own. He does. It took him six years, but he got through a crappy popped-up-last-night-while-you-were-sleeping college that then kept its “promise” to set him up with a career: a blue collar minimum wage job. “I could have gotten that on my own, saved myself six years” he has bemoaned to me. Why doesn’t he just start somewhere, you ask? Remember how he has no car? And lives in a smallish town with virtually no mass transit. Plus, he is black. And since both he and I hear the word “nigger” thrown around with appalling caprice (and no, I am not cleaning up the racist’s filth by writing “the N word”; you, dear reader, have to get sucker punched like I do, like my friend does, every time we hear it. Read Don Lemon and Whoopi Goldberg, their thoughts on this)--anyway, such casual cruelty does not bode well for a young black man trying to make it in this town. And this town is like so many American towns. I know, because I have lived in a few of those, too.
When you live among the poor, as I have, you come to realize the difference between excuses, and the cruel realities of a life lived in abject poverty.
Thanks for being patient enough to slog through the set-up, and what events confluenced to inspire my idea: what if nobody gave you six thousand dollars, and you still wanted to see the world? Or at least one amazing city, let’s start with that.
Here are the steps:
Again, the steps, unannotated:
Mentors select candidates:
Kid meets their mentor(s)
Kid selects project and destination
Kid creates presentation
Kid gives presentation, over time
Kid travels
Kid has grand night of presenting results
Kid soars. Ends up loving education, exploring more of the world, and becoming a C.O.W. mentor!
And nobody had to pony up $6000 dollars. The kid simply did what we do in the real world, at the grown-ups table: she/he, got paid to give a presentation.
Now, for the fun part. The logo, the branding merchandise, and all that. It is very important, right now, that you do NOT Google Images of “Cows wearing hats” or “A cow wearing a hat” or “Cows wearing funny hats” right now. (You do know, don’t you, that putting a phrase in "quotation marks" radically changes the results of your Google search.) What you might want to look up, though, is “hats of the world”. And then imagine a t-shirt with rows of cow heads, each one wearing a festive hat from a different country or culture.
Have a C.O.W.
Let’s do this.
And if you like the idea, please share it with your friends.
AFTERWORDS: You may be asking, if this is such a great idea, why haven’t I done it, yet? Remember the vile word I quoted above? Trust me, with that mindset, you aren’t going to get a lot of community support for this project. Some of the comments I have heard in response to my ideas would turn your stomach--even, perhaps, more than the N word cited above. My partner and I are trying now to get out of this town. But we are not rich. We will escape, though. And take our museum with us. Please don’t lose faith in us.
A charity that needs no charity? An organization that does not require you to plunk down a big fat donation, in order for the cause to thrive? Force-multiplier philanthropy?
It all started on an airplane. I was flying to visit my parents, who were travelling overseas at the time. We had explored the world together as a family, but I was an adult now, and we were living separate lives. It was always exciting to meet up with them in foreign ports o’ call. Life growing up as an Air Force brat had been amazing--nothing like described in Mary Wertsch’s book “Military Brats”, with its research methods that defy reason and credibility. I have known many, many military families, and virtually none of the fathers were Great Santinis. Life was always an adventure. And it was wonderful.
So, when on that plane, I found myself surrounded by a gaggle of kids, all mid-teens, wearing name tags (organization’s name withheld), I realized that this group was going to get to experience Europe for the first time--and I have to admit, I was envious. I could travel to Europe, but I could never see it for the first time again. I had lost my tourist virginity.
What pompous talk that sounds like, re-reading it, when I had lived in L.A. for a long time, and people bent on helping underprivileged children were stunned by the fact that thousands of kids in this country live ten or fifteen miles from the ocean, and have never seen it. Never felt the sand between their toes, or whooped with delight as a wave knocks them over while they stand, defiant, in the surf.
So of course, I got to talking with all the kids. It was a long flight, and we all became good friends. But one question I asked them stuck with me more than any other: “How much does this whole thing cost?” I asked. “Oh, about six thousand dollars”, they responded casually, with the tone of young people who have never had to contemplate price tags that are prohibitive to so many families: the cost of music lessons, karate lessons, camp, family vacations, private school, college tuition, etcetera. I was really happy for the kids. But I kept thinking about all the kids who would never get to make a trip like that. Kids who had never made it ten miles out of the ghetto, the ‘hood, the barrio. Whose fault is that? In this context, it doesn’t really matter. Not to the kid, who is just deprived. Deprived. We now leave that plane flight, and I withhold the name of that organization here, because it is a very fine organization; I have a friend who works passionately as one of their coordinators, and I would hate to inadvertently cast aspersions.
We are now at a Tony Robbins seminar, in Hawaii, where I have occasion to meet a bunch of former gang bangers, girls as well as boys, and they are about the same age as the Europe-bound kids on the plane. “What got you out of gangs?” I asked. And no, it wasn’t Tony Robbins walking his long old tall legs into the bad part of town and lifting them up. But he certainly was kind enough to cover their costs for the week long seminar in Hawaii. “I held my best friend while he died. He had been shot. He was my last friend. Three other ones got killed too.” Sobering words. And the words haunt me now, because one of the guys who currently works for me, who I consider a good friend, tells me about how his dad is dead, his mom in prison, and his best friend in prison for life. This young man has made geographical moves to stay away from crime buddies. But at this rate, he is never going to see the world. Never see more than another impoverished neighborhood. More importantly, he will never achieve his often articulated dream of helping at-risk kids. He’s somewhat at risk himself: he has no car, has a bit of a record (just minor stuff: a doobie in his car, that kind of thing), and sometimes doesn’t know how to get out of his own way. Why? Not because he isn’t smart, not because he’s a bad boy, and not because he doesn’t have a little education of his own. He does. It took him six years, but he got through a crappy popped-up-last-night-while-you-were-sleeping college that then kept its “promise” to set him up with a career: a blue collar minimum wage job. “I could have gotten that on my own, saved myself six years” he has bemoaned to me. Why doesn’t he just start somewhere, you ask? Remember how he has no car? And lives in a smallish town with virtually no mass transit. Plus, he is black. And since both he and I hear the word “nigger” thrown around with appalling caprice (and no, I am not cleaning up the racist’s filth by writing “the N word”; you, dear reader, have to get sucker punched like I do, like my friend does, every time we hear it. Read Don Lemon and Whoopi Goldberg, their thoughts on this)--anyway, such casual cruelty does not bode well for a young black man trying to make it in this town. And this town is like so many American towns. I know, because I have lived in a few of those, too.
When you live among the poor, as I have, you come to realize the difference between excuses, and the cruel realities of a life lived in abject poverty.
Thanks for being patient enough to slog through the set-up, and what events confluenced to inspire my idea: what if nobody gave you six thousand dollars, and you still wanted to see the world? Or at least one amazing city, let’s start with that.
Here are the steps:
- The stewards of this charity, Citizens of the World, gather to select a candidate, or candidates. These are teens who live in at-risk neighborhoods, perhaps in at-risk homes, but who have, amazingly, managed to keep decent grades and have a mostly clean record. (Note: there are many groups already in place for the young gang bangers, and girls who are in trouble. But nobody seems to have the resources for these kids who are trying so damn hard, in spite of realistically not having many chances for an amazing life. Think “Akeelah and the Bee.”) And by the way, there will be naysayers and people freaking out about everything that could go wrong. And while I will grant you that thoroughness and caution is required, this is the brainstorming stage. This is not a place for Downer Debbies. Send all of these types out for donuts, an exotic kind of donut that they need to drive to the next town to get.
- That kid gets assigned a mentor, or a team of mentors. All this is flexible.
- The mentor(s) helps the kid to decide where he wants to go, and why he wants to go there.
- The mentor(s) helps the kid create a presentation--a really powerful presentation, like the kind that will be the kid’s bread and butter in many white collar careers to which she/he might aspire. It could be to observe first hand, and report back, about another country’s efforts regarding wind energy, solar panels, well digging, cathedral restoration, soccer as opposed to football in public schools, day care and paid parent leave--the limits are your imagination.
- The kid then goes around to business owners, community organizations (Kiwanis, Toastmasters, you get the gist) and possibly churches, where he meets with church members and possibly even gives a little guest sermon about the humanitarian benefits of the trip he wishes to make. And this is not a slam dunk. The owner of the local car dealership or the manager of the neighborhood hardware store is free to ask how the this kid’s big trip will benefit his business? If he’s going to pony up money for the trip, what’s in it for him, personally? “Well,” responds the kid, “It will benefit the community, and in doing so. . .” You get the idea. In fact, objections and clarifications are welcomed: we are teaching the kid to think, to research answers to objections, to stay poised when questioned, to persist until they get the desired outcome. Great prep for trying to get a scholarship, great prep for navigating one’s way in the job world, all coming up for the kid in a few short years. (The community will be given the heads up, so that business owners, for example, do not freak out and call the police when a kid from the bad part of town walks into their office with an endgame of getting money. This “heads up” could take the form of a cheerful article in the local paper, or a mention in church bulletins, or a talk given by an adult at the above mentioned venues, prior to the kid’s appearance on the scene.) Let’s break it down: the kid may get twenty bucks from the bakery, a hundred from the Moose Lodge. Five bucks here, five hundred there. It may take this kid a few weeks to get the money for his big research expedition trip. Or, even, a couple of years: but one would assume that the mentors, seeing how hard this kid, these kids, are trying, would takes steps to make it worthwhile by creating events and experiences that will inspire, entertain, and embolden the kid. Think “Big Brothers”, “Big Sisters”. The kid gets taken to the appropriate concert, theme park, the big aquarium or wild animal petting zoo an hour away. The idea is to keep the kid’s momentum going, by intermittent and well-deserved rewards.
- The money (obviously escrowed in a trustworthy account), is all there, arrangements are made, and the kid takes his trip. Caveat: I advocate that the youth never travel with fewer than two adults--background checks passed, of course. The kid may stay a few days, or longer, depending on the scope of her or his project, and the finances. The point is, the kid is there to work. That is why the citizens of the kid’s hometown financed him. Finally, and obviously: the adults in the room will be doing their part to make sure that the plane tickets and accomodations are all gotten at the best possible prices, using the leverage of this cause to get great deals. It should go without saying that Citizens of the World should work towards the kid being hosted by families, once at the destination. This trip should cost nowhere near the daunting figures that were thrown around on the plane trip we referenced earlier.
- The kid has a hero’s homecoming. Whatever the town decides that means. Heck, Red Lobster would probably send the kid over the moon. But the kid’s job is not done. They now must prepare one final presentation: how the trip and the research went, the findings! Take over a restaurant for one night--or a hotel seminar room, or a church basement, whatever works. Our young hero gives his or her presentation, and gets a standing ovation. And something great to put on a college application, to ease along chances for a scholarship, or at least admission to an institution. The essence is clear: the Citizen of the World has learned a broad range of skills--all the seminal skills, really--that will help him in his life. It’s like that World War II song goes: “How you gonna keep them down on the farm, after they’ve seen Pareee…” Point made. Again,think “Akeelah and the Bee”. Here is a child with such drive and promise; all she needed was someone to believe in her. Spend time with her. Help her to hone her skills. And walk her through the dark night of the child’s soul. And I can guarantee you this: remember I mentioned “force-multiplier philanthropy”? Well, I can assure you that our C.O.W., having experienced being on the receiving end of the program, will find the temptation to be on the giving end, the mentoring end, impossible to resist. Everybody knows that the unmatched thrill is really bestowed upon the giver. Our C.O.W. will most probably want to hang around, or occasionally return, to experience that joy. While humans can be as arbitrary and capricious as the penalties they sometimes impose upon one another, it is hard to imagine that this young soul, having already faced and survived their at-risk beginnings, will not thrive after the experience of being a true Citizen of the World.
Again, the steps, unannotated:
Mentors select candidates:
Kid meets their mentor(s)
Kid selects project and destination
Kid creates presentation
Kid gives presentation, over time
Kid travels
Kid has grand night of presenting results
Kid soars. Ends up loving education, exploring more of the world, and becoming a C.O.W. mentor!
And nobody had to pony up $6000 dollars. The kid simply did what we do in the real world, at the grown-ups table: she/he, got paid to give a presentation.
Now, for the fun part. The logo, the branding merchandise, and all that. It is very important, right now, that you do NOT Google Images of “Cows wearing hats” or “A cow wearing a hat” or “Cows wearing funny hats” right now. (You do know, don’t you, that putting a phrase in "quotation marks" radically changes the results of your Google search.) What you might want to look up, though, is “hats of the world”. And then imagine a t-shirt with rows of cow heads, each one wearing a festive hat from a different country or culture.
Have a C.O.W.
Let’s do this.
And if you like the idea, please share it with your friends.
AFTERWORDS: You may be asking, if this is such a great idea, why haven’t I done it, yet? Remember the vile word I quoted above? Trust me, with that mindset, you aren’t going to get a lot of community support for this project. Some of the comments I have heard in response to my ideas would turn your stomach--even, perhaps, more than the N word cited above. My partner and I are trying now to get out of this town. But we are not rich. We will escape, though. And take our museum with us. Please don’t lose faith in us.
