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My father had a dehabilitating stroke when I was two. His company took care of my family for 5 years while he recovered. After 5 years, my father was better - but he was never going to be at the same level he was before. The company asked my father to find another job. He bounced from job to job for 2 years, fell into depression (probably had an undiagnosed mental break down), and didn't work for the next 8 years. My mother, with absolutely no education and 8 children to care for, worked 3 jobs to keep a roof over our head and keep us fed. We moved from a nice upper-middle class home to a small 3 bedroom home in the not-so-good part of town. She delivered papers at 4 in the morning. Then she sold bags of nuts/fruits/candy/chocolates door to door for a small local company. After she came home from that, us kids restocked her van for the next day while she went to the local convienence store and worked the evening shift. My sister at 16 waited tables and gave the money she earned to my parents. Our church would occasionally give us boxes of food. They knew we were struggling, but also knew my family was proud and didn't want hand outs. I know what its like to be the poor kid in ragged hand me downs at school that gets teased (I had to wear my brothers coat - that got me laughed at), the kid that turns down birthday party invites because you know you can't afford to bring a present, the kid that doesn't join girl scouts because it takes $5 to join. I know the humiliation of waiting after church for almost everyone to leave to take the box of free food. And from all this I know if someone works hard and asks for help when they absolutely must, they can support themselves. We always had a roof over our head and food on the table. I'll donate food, but I won't donate money.
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