American runs on...

Volunteering.

If you thought "Dunkin'", then you're obviously not from my neck of the woods. If that statement makes you scratch your head, you're obviously from the other side of the pond, and should just carry on reading. Anyway, our world down in the south would not exist if weren't for people helping out. For free. In their own time. Without reimbursement.

You can say a lot of things about Americans - they're loud, overweight, poor drivers, could use a clothing make-over, and really need to learn that "done did that" is not correct English, but there is one thing you cannot say about them, and that is that they're not willing to help. Because they are. Are you carrying a box into a building? Someone will hold the door open for you. Did you just trip carrying that big box up the stairs? People will actually stop and help you up and ask you if you are OK, and then despite all your protests, carry the box to your office for you. Compare that to Holland, where I have had people step over me and my box and complaining they're late for class. Are you sick? People will bring over more than enough food to feed your entire family for a week. Without asking first. Are you down in the dumps? People will send a card or drop off cookies, or both. Do you want to plan a dinner for the city's homeless people? Vague acquintances will gladly offer to make their grandma's stuffed turkey recipe, or offer use of their truck, or sacrifice their weekend to help you serve.

Now I like helping out. The reason I like helping out is probably also the reason why I'm up to my ears in work right now. I just can't stand leaving students out in the cold when they need a class and no one is stepping up the plate. I like to say I'm on a fast track to tenure, although husband-dear argues I'm on a fast track to insanity. I say we get to tenure first, and then let the chips fall as they may. But having said that, I have tried to cut back on my volunteering. Because tenure will take another few years, and losing my sanity this semester would not look good in my portfolio.

So, I'm not sure how it happened, or why for that matter, but this week I was semi-in-charge of the non-edible portion of the Airmen's Center Thanksgiving Dinner. I don't know why husband-dear, myself, and our dear friend Jan were the only ones from the chapel to respond to the email from our, by the way very cool and totally awesome new chaplain from Idaho, and I'm not sure what inspired us to give up our free Thursday night last week for a planning meeting either. I also really don't know while at said meeting, Jan and I volunteered to take care of the decorations, while husband-dear magnamimously offered to help with setting up hundreds of chairs and tables. I really don't, especially if you consider that I have enough work to keep at least five people occupied until the end of the year. But considering that I still find time to write this blog, I must have, in some foggy part of my brain, decided that I should thus also have time to make a bare building like a Thanksgiving Extravanganza. So after giving up our Thursday night last week, we then also sacrificed a few consecutive evenings and afternoons after that, because once you commit, you do it right. Right? Anyway, we're not done yet either. After helping the airmen eat the enormous helpings of turkey and sweet potato and pulled pork and mounds of desert last night, we will be going over tonight to help clean up the enormous amounts of fall decorations that Jan and I borrowed from every single protocol closet on base on Friday.

What is a protocol closet, you ask? I'm so glad you asked, because until last Friday, I didn't know either. A protocol closet is a place, usually a room, where a unit's protcol officer keeps all the decorations used for special events such as promotions, dinners, 4th of July celebrations, Christmast parties, and so on. They're basically the equivalent of a Hobby Lobby without the price tag. So anyway, the command center let Jan and I browse through these walhallas of decorations, and we went nuts. Unfortunately, we now also need to take all the garlands and leaves and pumpkins and ribbons and candles and flowers back. And then get ready for Christmas. Because our new chaplain, efficient as he could have possibly been, also assigned the same positions for the Airmen Christmas dinner.

But although I obviously don't have time for any of this, it's fun. And not just because you're helping people out, but also because whenever you volunteer on base, and call out, "Are there any men who can help me carry this box/ hang this up / move this cabinet" there are at least six strapping young men ready to help you out. What can I say? Volunteering comes with its perks.


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