As you may know, our original short film was called “Documenting Charity: and the art of street shaving” and we are calling the current production “Documenting Charity: the ALS ride across Canada”. But today, as I rode the motorcycle through the streets of Toronto, as we left our hotel from last night (in Ajax, ON), and as we met with the executive directors and president and CEO of ALS Ontario and ALS Canada, and as we met with patients at an ALS treatment clinic, my thoughts started to wander to how we “define” charity instead of how we are “documenting” it.
Last night we pulled into the Super 8 motel in Ajax, ON. For the sake of saving money, (and thus putting more of the money we raise directly into the pockets of the ALS Societies!), whenever we are forced to pay for our own hotel/motel rooms, (instead of them being donated), we have agreed, as a team, to get only one room (4 people in the room) and use the motorhome for the other 3 people on our team. When we checked in we were advised that, because there were going to 4 adults in the room instead of 2, that there would be an additional charge - still less than an extra room - but significant enough to notice.
I asked the night manager if, given that we were crossing Canada for ALS, he might be able to waive the extra charge. He told me that he didn’t have the authority and that I’d have to speak to the daytime owner/manager in the morning.
In the morning, I asked the owner/manager - not only for a possible discount, but also if maybe they might donate the whole thing (after all you don’t get what you don’t ask for) - and was rejected. Now, I can take rejection, (I get it all the time), but for some reason what really got to me this morning was the indignation with which the rejection came. I felt like, what I imagine, a homeless person might feel when begging for change on the street. I felt embarassed. I felt dismissed. I felt like the manager/owner thought I was trying to pull a “fast one”. It didn’t help that he also took a cursory glance at our letter of support from the ALS Society of Canada (which I offered up with the hope that, at least, it might give us “some” credibility) and then he said “I’ve never heard of ALS” and then turned his back and walked away.
To be honest, at that moment, I really felt my spirit being crushed, and my heart felt heavy. On one hand, I don’t blame him. We could have been trying to pull a “fast one”. But the truth was, we weren’t. For some reason, this rejection, this morning, felt harder. It felt like I just saw somebody collapse on the sidewalk and then watched everyone step over or past them.
What have we come to as a society where our fears (of strangers, of tricks, of con artists) has overpowered our sense of community and charity? I’m not sure that this rejection would have bothered me as much as it did today, had it happened 4 weeks ago. Besides, at the end of the day, the room was “only” $132.00 - and it certainly wasn’t going to break us - but somehow it meant much more than that this morning. Somehow now, knowing what I know, having met the people we have met - it meant the world. It symbolized all the strange looks we get when we offer hugs on the street. It symbolized all the of the physical, emotional, and financial struggles people living with ALS face every single moment of every single day. And it hurt.
This afternoon we met with the folks at the ALS Canada and ALS Ontario office. We told them that we were having challenges getting media support and coverage for our trip. They told us “its hard to get the media’s attention - especially in a big city like Toronto.” Robin told me tonight that when she contacted various TV and radio networks etc. she was told “we’re just not interested in your story”, or “that doesn’t sound like something we want to cover”.
Which made me think back to the Super 8 manager… “I’ve never heard of ALS”. That pretty much sums it up - doesn’t it?
-glen
ps - we never got a national fuel sponsor, we never got a national airline sponsor, we never got a motorcycle sponsor - but we certainly asked.