by Erik Smiley
{Editor's note: Christmas is just around the corner!}
Rain drips from the roof just above me, and tires swish on the wet pavement of the shopping center parking lot. On my left, a sliding electric door rolls back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as patrons enter and exit the drug store. "Merry Christmas", says an elderly gentleman, while depositing coins into the plastic kettle that hangs in a stand just in front of me that also holds a sign announcing the Salvation Army. For the last 5 minutes, I've been playing a set of Irish jigs on a penny whistle, close cousin of the recorder. For the last 5 years, I've been a Salvation Army Kettle worker. Every December since 2012, I've spent the month standing near the entrance of a drug store or market soliciting donations and greeting people as they hurry about their errands. "Thank you for the music," says someone else as she adds to the donations.
The original suggestion to work for the Salvation Army came from my wife Karen in the fall of 2012 when we lived in Sacramento. "My ex brother-in-law is a bell ringer. "He gets just minimum wage, but it pays for a nice Christmas," she said.
My job search, (still on-going) needed to start getting even seasonal results and it happened to be just the right time to call, because it was time for the Salvation Army to put their kettle program together for the year. Near the end of the first interview, I mentioned that I had been playing Irish music on the penny whistle since 1988. "What!" said Ralph, one of the interviewers.
"Can I play out there?" I asked.
"Certainly," he agreed. "I used to play trumpet when I was bell ringing in Chicago. They would let us ring in the building when it got down to 3 degrees," he recalled. I was glad I didn't have to worry about 3 degrees above 0 in Sacramento and I was starting to like the idea of the job.
"People don't realize how hard it is," said Ralph at the orientation about a week later. "You'll be on your feet from 1 to 3 hours at a time," he told a group of us gathered at the local Salvation Army Corps. Paper work was completed, information was exchanged and I was told, "You'll get a call around Thanksgiving."
The call around Thanksgiving came late on the Friday after, and I had already turned my cell phone off for the day. On Saturday morning at about 8:00 am, I heard the message saying that I was to be at a place called Sunrise Mall at the back entrance of a JC Penny's department store. "Oh, I wish I'd seen that message yesterday" I thought as I quickly threw a lunch together. All I knew about Sunrise Mall was that it was all the way across Sacramento from where I lived, something like a 15 mile trip, and I had to be there in about 2 hours.
A call to the local transit agency which operates 7 days a week, a portable GPS, a 2 hour bus ride with an unfamiliar transfer spot and my good friend Todd helping me through the giant shopping center, I was at my spot before the kettle, bell, and apron arrived. That first day passed like they said it would with me standing ringing for about 2 hours at a time between two 10 minute breaks and a 30 minute lunch. I'm sure they said something about dressing warmly or at least being prepared for weather changes. It was 5:00, dark, and the weather was changing. I don't even think I brought a heavy jacket or a hat. After that long chilly hour passed and the pedestrian traffic had almost stopped, Todd and the Salvation Army van arrived at almost the same time. The Army picked up my things and Todd gave me a ride all the way home which included a hamburger along the way.
On the following Monday morning, I had a general knowledge of where I was to meet the Salvation Army and start my shift. The location this time was only a 2 mile walk from my house along a pleasant creek trail, and I was to work the spot for the rest of the season. This time, I brought the penny whistles with me, and after a few minutes of ringing the bell, I pulled one out of my front pocket and started to play one of the Irish tunes that I've learned over the years. Over the next hour or so, I started hearing things like: "I've never seen anybody do that before," or "Thank you for the music; it's so much nicer than the bell." All right, this might work. I spent the next few hours playing for about 30 minutes, and ringing the bell while I thought up some more sets to continue with for the next 20 minutes or so.
During the last week of the 2012 season, I was approached by a man who introduced himself and said he was from the local NBC news station. "I'm doing a piece on Bell Ringers who do something different while providing this great service. I'd like to interview you and get you on our local news tomorrow night."
"Of course," I said and we arranged a time to meet during my shift the next day. On the following night, the local news featured a piece on me, and on a woman who sings Christmas carols while ringing. Over the last few days of the season, I was recognized for the music and thanked for being out there providing this valuable service.
As I write this piece, the 2016 kettle season has ended for the year in Eureka, California where Karen and I now live. For the last five Decembers, being a Kettle Worker has been a great source of full-time temporary paid employment. "I'm proud of you, and you're doing great things for our family," Karen has said on those nights when I have come home tired, stiff, cold, cranky, and hungry. The job gives me a focus, and I have been a model employee, on-time, cheery and flexible. All my supervisors thus far have been very accommodating to this totally blind kettle worker in that they have helped familiarize me with new locations, and shown me routes to rest rooms and comfortable places to take my lunch breaks.
Not only has the kettle work been a paying job, but I have met interesting people each season. Some people have not noticed that I am totally blind, I think because my long white cane leans against a building support column just behind me. "Do you always play music with your eyes closed!", I have been asked several times this season alone. Or, "Could you watch my bike for me while I go in, oh, sorry." Last year, one man got out of a truck and said, "Katch!", and something bounced off my kettle, my hip, and skittered a few feet back behind me on to the wet ground. I didn't want to feel around down there on the wet concrete near the door of the hardware store where I was working that day. I played music and rang the bell for about 10 more minutes before someone came out, picked up whatever that was back there behind me, and said, "Oh, here yeh go," and gave me an ice cream bar before getting in to his truck and driving off. I ate the treat quickly because I knew it wouldn't last long even on a cool winter day.
The stories, the chance to play music and meet people, and the temporary work opportunity have brought me back to the Salvation Army now for 5 seasons. I plan to do this community smart seasonal work where ever I live with an apron, bell, the proper weather attire, and a penny whistle ready to play.
