It's The Good Ol' Hockey Game

Stomping Tom Connor knew of what he sang, that when that good old hockey game is on television the eyes of the Canadian public are glued to the game. No one leaves home unless they're going to a sports bar where they can watch the action on a multitude of screens, or they've the good fortune to have obtained tickets and are physically present at the game.

I set out this evening right after dinner with the canvass kit for the Canadian Cancer Society assigned to me, in the hopes I'd find enough people at home to make it worthwhile. Lo and behold, someone home at almost every household. Miraculous, I felt, until it was revealed to me at the halfway mark of my canvass this evening that a hockey game was in session. Ta-da! Lucked in.

My sweetly generous neighbours, despite my having interrupted their pleasure at the game, responded as they are wont to do, intelligently, generously, and with time left over for a leisurely bit of small talk. At least that half of the pair that wasn't keenly observing every whack of a hockey stick. All right, at some homes, the men too.

And then there are the few others whose response is always so puzzling to me. Those few who will tell me that they "give at the office" through donation to the universal workplace-established United Appeal annual campaign whose collections are meant to enhance charitable social services throughout the region.

They really do do not wish to be informed that United Appeal does not cover agencies such as Heart and Stroke, Cancer Society, CNIB, Kidney Foundation and a host of others. They may in fact, not even deign to donate to the United Appeal, and use it as a ruse, or give sparingly, feeling that slight contribution is sufficient as their due to society.

But it's the outstandingly puzzling response of people who have been closely touched by cancer for example, that always sets me aback with astonishment. Revealing that someone close and beloved is even now battling cancer, but they somehow don't see the need to donate. One such neighbour, who steadfastly and politely refuses to donate to any charity, a case in point.

Her husband recently diagnosed with a mid-to-advanced stomach cancer, had surgery and is now undergoing chemotherapy. Another of our neighbours, one who lives directly beside them confided this to us. So when I knocked at the door to present myself and my canvass kit, the wife informed me they had "already made a donation at the hospital".

And to clarify, explained, in hushed, stricken tones that her husband, Jean-Guy, was diagnosed with cancer and is now having therapeutic sessions. She felt compelled to speak about her situation, to describe it for me, and I felt compelled to give comfort, to tell her I knew very what how difficult it was for them, but they would persevere and he would soon be returned to good health.

Directly across from that house is another, one where the man of the house's mother, whom I had been introduced to years earlier, had succumbed, through a long, agonizing process of deterioration, to colon cancer. Here too, the householders would not donate to any appeals from any charitable institution, let alone one that assists people with cancer, and raises funds for cancer research. Lawyers, both husband and wife, money no problem.

Moreover, they seem to enjoy toying with the canvasser. Repeatedly, year after year, they've suggested that "now isn't a good time; we're busy, mind coming back another time?", and when I do, it's still not a good time. Or they'll invite me in, say they're going for a cheque book, so I trustingly fill in the receipt for income tax purposes, only to have them return, mock-ruefully telling me they can't find the cheque-book and they've no cash.

But, never fear, they'll be good to their word. Soon as they locate that elusive cheque-book they'll hie along to our house and present me with their donation. Only thing is, that little event somehow never seems to materialize. I can only wonder what kind of childish glee that comforts them with. Not that others among our neighbours haven't knocked at our door to present their donation, if I've missed them.

For the rest, their welcome to me as I canvassed tonight, their good-heartedness and willingness to convey to me their understanding that by donating to such causes they are, in a small but significant way, acknowledging their debt to society, erases the dour disinterest of the few.