Volunteering Blues

A few months past, I ran into my colorful, courtly neighbor Doc. As usual, the retired dermatologist was out walking before the sun rose, with his friendly Boxer Sam. Doc stopped working as, I believe, the oldest practicing doc in Miami Dade. I always enjoy our chats -- he has an old world gentility about him, with ZERO political correctness. He has mutton chop sideburns, and an appearance that makes him look like a character out of an old Western movie. I was shocked to learn he was Jewish -- he even has a WASPy sounding last name. Anyway, he was lamenting that retirement left him bored. I asked him about teaching, and he was thinking about it, but didn't want to commute Downtown to Jackson Memorial. Maybe fledgling FIU -- where he could teach at local Baptist Hospital. Then I asked him about volunteering. His face screwed up. "Never! Volunteers aren't valued! I used to do it, and they treated me like a slave, and never thanked me. No -- in our society, people don't value you unless you charge." His words resonated with me last week. I volunteer as a Guardian Ad Litem, and I have one ward -- a pregnant teen. I meet with her monthly and report on her "well being." Each time I try to see her, it's a chore. For my last visit, I texted her I was coming by. She used to live in a group home way out in casa carajo, as the Cubans say, and now she's moved to one ever FURTHER away -- East Naples, just about. We texted, and I fought traffic on Coral Reef Drive to get to her place. When I was close, her text was dismissive. "Not home yet. Stopped at the dentist. Be home in a few hours." I texted back that I'd come meet her at the Dentist's office -- she wasn't a patient, a fellow teen was. OK, she replied -- the office was in Southland Mall -- another 45 minutes SOUTH. No, it didn't make sense -- we'd simply reschedule. I have a most fastidious sense of time with other people's time. I abhor being late, let alone canceling appointments. I know all we have, ultimately, is our time, and if someone is sharing theirs with me, I treat it sacredly. I realize this it an unrealistic burden to place on a 17 year old who grew up as my Ward client did, but still... I remembered the other day I've been volunteering nearly 40 years. When I was 15, I was a once a week "candy striper" without the cute dress, at Mid Island Hospital on LI. I did it to get a sense of medicine, and whether I wanted to do it. The staff had me carry records around, and help bathe patients -- typically elderly men dying of lung cancer after decades of smoking while working at Grumman or other LI industries. I had almost forgotten my stint there -- it ended nicely, with a certificate, and an award as a high school senior from the Levittown Optimist's Club -- something Wifey always chuckles at, as she finds me humorously optimistic... D2 volunteers through her sorority, and used to in high school as well. I remember one bad experience: D1 came home from UF, and we went to the local Petsmart, where D2 was helping with an adoption day. D2 was crying with the dogs -- the director of the program, not ironically a super bitch, had made her feel bad. We rescued D2 from the dog rescue, and cheered her by explaining that that very same woman had upset our friend Loni by deeming her, an upstanding community teacher and loving mother of 2, as unworthy of adopting a stray dog! D1 seems to have the best volunteer experiences -- junior league, where her Spaniel Mads is a therapy dog, and work for the elderly Jews in Miami. I'm extrememly proud of my Ds, and the work they do for others. And I guess I'll keep at my GAL duties -- even with the lack of appreciation for my time. At a recent conference call, the issue came into focus. NINE state workers involved in my Ward's case talked at each other on the phone, espousing theory about her care. It was a wake up call about the absurd waste in our government. At the end of the call, it was clear to me that no one was going to actually DO any of the things discussed -- like go out to Homestead to see whether the Baby Daddy's home might be suitable for the coming baby. I spoke up and pointed this out. One of the bureaucrats actually said "Well, as GAL YOU can do that!" I replied "So NINE of you are paid by the State and County to watch after this girl, and you want to one guy working for FREE to do this?" Finally, a social worker, or case worker, or some such spoke up and said she would make the visit. Again, the volunteer is the red headed stepchild. That's ok -- the work is sometimes its own reward.