Lorenz and Friends

Deliver me from fund-raisers again, oh Lord

Over four years ago I wrote a column about how happy I was that my children's fund-raising days were over. My youngest of four had just graduated from high school and I figured I'd never again be haunted with tough, tasteless pizza; over-priced cookies; melt-in-your mouth chocolate candy bars that single-handedly caused me to gain 10 pounds each winter; coupon books that I never got organized enough to use; window stickers that were so tacky I wondered if I shouldn't also put a couple pink flamingos in my front yard; greetings cards that were so sappy I'd never send them to anyone; gift wrap that was more expensive than if I'd bought real gold foil; trinkets that ended up in my own rummage sales and then donated to Goodwill; popcorn that was priced at approximately a nickel per kernel; citrus fruit that sat in warehouses so long it lost its flavor; tins of terrible tough toffee; kringles made up entirely of sugar and fat; magazine subscriptions that I never found time to read; and finally, holiday decorations that give me such heebie-jeebies that I should be in therapy to overcome my current disdain for decorating the house for any event.

My four kids were in band, football, basketball, soccer, swimming, art, music, theater, cheerleading, various camps, German club, chorus, student council, religious ed and probably a dozen other activities. All of those activities had fund-raisers. Don't get me wrong. I truly understand the need for these organizations to have money. It's just that I have always resented the fact that by the time the over-priced items are paid for, the organization itself only realizes a tiny profit margin and we, the parents, end up with the short stick. Tacky, useless stuff that we don't need, overpriced to the point of being ridiculous.

Simply put, it's the companies who supply this stuff who are really raking it in.

For instance, one year I discovered I was actually paying $14 per pound for a box of cookies. Something like a four-ounce box of cookies actually cost $3.50 a box. I called the leader of the organization to ask how much money per box was actually given to the kids on the local level of that national organization. When she said 35 cents, I decided right then and there that I couldn't afford those cookies.

Instead, I reached for my checkbook and wrote out a check for $5 and gave it directly to the local organization. Had I bought the cookies instead, it would have cost me $56 for the local club to net a measly $5.

Like I said at the beginning, I celebrated big time when my fund-raising days were over when my youngest graduated from high school. But what I forgot on that glorious day, was the fact that I have grandchildren. More and more and more grandchildren. The sixth one will be born in the spring of 2002. My oldest daughter is even contemplating have a child or two before she hits 40. The youngest isn't even married yet. My four children could easily turn out another generation that numbers eight, 10, maybe even a dozen.

Already, my oldest granddaughter is hitting me up to buy this and that. And so this year, to put an end to the nightmare of tacky, over-priced stuff piling up in my house, I have respectfully requested of all four of my children that they not include me in their children's fund-raisers. Instead, I've asked for the social security numbers of each grandchild and have opened savings accounts in their names.

I'm saving my pennies, nickels, dimes and whatever dollars I can do without and depositing them in the grandkids' accounts. My plan is to hopefully have enough money in them to be able to take each child on a trip alone with me when he or she turns 16 years of age.

The plan gives us all something to look forward to and inspires me to stop spending money on stuff I don't need, don't want and can't use, just so that 10 microscopic cents on the dollar goes to support the prom or band camp or football uniforms. I personally think fund-raising should be between parents, kids and people who love cookies and candy that cost $14 a pound.

Now that I have soon-to-be six grandchildren age eight and under and the fund-raising has already begun, I can't tell you how relieved I am to have written their parents a letter detailing my plan. Now when the phone rings, it isn't a grandchild asking me to buy this and that. It's so we can talk and giggle and plan for our big trip when they turn 16.

Sure works for me.

(Lorenz, an art-of-living writer and speaker, can be contacted at patricialorenz@juno.com.)