When I reached my fifties and achieved modest success as an entrepreneur, I felt I should try and do my part to give back to society. It might sound smug, but it is the way I feel about the world. And while I am sure that we can all learn a lot of interesting things about the times in which we live through clever deconstruction of the latest trends in charity, surely only those people in dire need of charitable assistance should be allowed to say whether the source of giving is too smug to accept the proceeds.

For the last two years, my wife and I [both white] have been involved in the life of very poor family [black] in the small town in North Florida in which we all live. But although this family resides less than two miles from us, they are, in so many ways, a world away. The head of the household, Mary [not her real name], is now 60 and for nearly two decades she has been raising three of her daughter's children, two girls and a boy, while their mother has been in jail. One granddaughter is 13 and still in school, the other is 18 and in jail. The grandson is 21 and mentally disabled. Mary's own son is 20 and just went to jail for what could be the next 20 years. At various times Mary has nursed numerous family members in her home, including the grandmother that raised her. Contrary to popular stereotypes, our country's welfare programs do not keep this family fed and housed and cared for.

Mary was born and raised on a share-cropping farm in Georgia. She was 16 the first time she saw a dollar bill. She worked as a dish-washer at a large hospital here in North Florida for nearly two decades but received no pension or long term benefits when she quit. She had to quit because the engine in her car died and she didn't have the money to fix it. Most cities in Florida have little or no public transportation and with a heat index that is often over 100 degrees in the Summer, a four mile walk or bike ride to get to work is hardly a realistic option for a woman whose blood pressure is currently around 220/140.

When we met Mary she still needed a car to get to work. We found her one and sure enough she found a job and went back to work. But then her house burned down. The fire broke out from a dilapidated stove used for heating (North Florida can get pretty chilly in the Winter and this was the only source of heat in the house, fed with trash because nobody had the money for wood or coal). Right after the fire, the Red Cross put the family in a motel, but would only pay for three nights. Through the kindness of strangers, and my wife's abilities as a negotiator, the family spent two months in an ocean front condo while she corralled all the paperwork required to get Mary into the County's one federally subsidized housing project. That is where Mary and her family live for now.

After 60 years of raising a family, working hard, and caring for others, Mary's one and only capital asset is the tiny lot on which her house once stood. The cost to rebuild the house so that she has her own home again: about $50,000. Mary may not have much in this world but she definitely has pride and principles. Even so, it is ridiculous to think she would turn down a new house for her family just because the funding came from rich lawyers for whom the gift was a PR stunt that cost nothing.

It just so happens that $50,000 is also the amount of money being sought by an independent documentary made hereabouts that highlights the living conditions of poor African Americans in a North Florida community that sacrificed a great deal to achieve one of the greatest civil rights victories of the last century. The film, which recently won an Audience Award on the festival circuit, has so far been financed entirely by donations--of time, equipment, services, and money--the largest of which came from a prominent Florida trial lawyer. No doubt the filmmakers, who needs the money to acquire theatrical and DVD rights to historic archive footage used in the film, would not turn down further funding from lawyers, whatever their motives might be. Heck, those lawyers could even get their corporate logo on the DVD jacket if that's what it takes to tell the world what things are really like in America.

I dare not walk alone either. Charity has saved my white ass many times. And like most, I've had my opportunities to be charitable, too. Thoughtful name and a fine post.

Right on, buddy