Giving to charity involves very personal choices!

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

Every Christmas many of us try to take the spirit of giving beyond our families and friends by donating to charities. Whether it’s through the cards we buy, the SVP envelope through the door or a bucket shaken in the street, we extend our generosity to others who need our help.

Some used recent charity-related scandals as an excuse to stop giving, but not this scribbler. If a charity is registered I consider it worthy, and anyway, for me, giving to charity is a personal matter.

Rather than getting dazed and confused, wondering which charity deserves the most, I simply follow my feelings.

Many cannot understand how anyone can donate to help doggies and donkeys while there are people starving to death in the world, but we humans are a wonderfully mixed-up bunch, and what twangs your heartstrings might make no music on mine.

My Christmas cards go three ways. Croí, for my father who died after many strokes throughout a long decline; Crumlin Children’s Hospital, for the loss of Alana, and the Galway Hospice, for Sonja and for helping me and so many others.

I give what I can afford and then I give a little more, because for goodness sake, it’s not as if I’ll be going without, compared to so many others.

However, a few weeks ago I discovered that when it comes to charitable giving, I do not like to be bossed around. Two parcels arrived at the same time, from two different charities.

The first I opened was from Mouth and Foot Painting Artists, an incredible crew of creative people who have overcome the most challenging disabilities to express themselves through art.

Thankfully I’ve some idea of their challenge, as I’ve been watching Landscape Artist of the Year on TV. One of the painters was a Thalidomide victim, born without arms. It was moving and inspiring to watch as he drew a precise line pencil plan of his painting with his toes, and then painted the colours into the picture with a brush in his mouth.

He explained that unlike able-bodied artists, he could not apply paint while standing back and looking at the picture as a whole. Instead each brush stroke had to be pre-planned to perfection, as he was forced to paint incredibly close to the canvas.

For more, read this week’s Galway City Tribune.