This September, my dad will turn 90. He and my mother have been married for 65 years and live in the same house my siblings and I grew up in. I do not know how old my mother is. She has never mentioned her age and she taught her children it was impolite to ask.
When my parents moved into their new house in 1959, forty other families moved into their new neighborhood that summer. Most moved to suburbia from the big city. They worked long hours because buying the house was a stretch, especially with children in tow and more on the way.
Without much money left over, my parents and a dozen neighbors chipped in to buy a heavy-duty ladder together. For the next thirty years, that ladder moved from house to house, but its default home was our garage. It carried scores of paint drips, dents, and scrapes from hundreds of individual and neighborhood projects. I learned that when you helped someone carry the ladder, you often helped with the ensuing project.
The ladder’s shared ownership helped teach me what it meant to be fair, generous, and patient. The ladder was always in demand. When it wore out, my dad replaced it. Twice. He enjoyed the excuse to stay connected with his neighbors and no one ever mentioned the obvious change. That is how my parents continue to give. Quietly, consistently and over time.
Today, when I talk with donors about their giving and what they wish to accomplish with their philanthropy, I often ask about their own early experiences with generosity.
Many share memories of a family member or other adult in their life who were extraordinarily giving.
They describe parents who volunteered tirelessly at church or school.
They mention friends who were the backbone of a service club or charitable event. Always raising their hand to volunteer, then using that hand to write a check in support.
Giving is not necessarily innate, but rather a learned behavior that relies on one generation teaching and inspiring the next.
I often hear stories of people described as being “tough as nails” or all business on the outside, but generous souls with huge hearts on the inside. They would spend hours crafting items, like quilts, furniture, or other art with their own hands for people they may not know or would never meet. They staffed community festivals and cooked for hundreds, sometimes thousands.
Stories of generosity are important. They define what it means to be a member of a family, or a community, or even, uniquely American. These stories also confirm what we always knew. Younger eyes and ears are always watching and listening, even if we do not think they are paying attention.
If you are giving, those around you will think of your generous acts when they want to honor, emulate, or remember you.
What are your memories of generosity? I’d like to know. You can share them with me at rserpe@adamscountycf.org or 717-337-0060. Ralph Serpe is president & CEO of the Adams County Community Foundation.