A Letter to Sally Ann as Christmas Approaches

You probably don't remember my Dad. He was born, many years ago in 1923, to what was, other than his soon-to-be-absent father, a pretty typical Irish Catholic family in a slum in Manchester, England.

My grandmother worked in a brewery and although, as a good church-going woman, liquor never passed her lips she was half-cut from the fumes most of the time. My Dad quit school at 12 to work full-time and bring some income into the house.

The 1930's were tough there, as they were everywhere, and my Dad's family did what every family on the block did. They worked hard, attended mass regularly, they gave to their church, and they very nearly starved to death.

Dad used to tell me that there were many days that the only meal that they got was soup, and you provided it. Horse drawn wagons would go through the neighbourhood and your soldiers would dole out soup by the bowlful. The parents, embarrassed to accept charity from a church other than their own, would send the children out to collect it. They were embarrassed and, perhaps, ashamed, but they ate it nonetheless.

I have never been to one of your churches, and I'm not sure Dad ever did, either. You didn't seem to mind. I learned, growing up, that you measured a man by his need, not by his race or religion, and that you would never turn a hungry man away.

My experience has been that you have been good to your word. You haven't had to feed me, but you have fed millions of others, and have given them warm places to sleep when the weather is cold. You have an amazing ability to recruit thousands (and I am one of them) of middle-class people from all religions and walks of life, and have turned them into beggars on your behalf.

I can say, from personal experience, that it is an embarrassing and humbling experience, as a middle-aged guy who wants for little, to be transformed into a common beggar, to stand next to a kettle thinking "maybe this one will spare me some change", if only for a few hours.

It is a testament to your goodness that many of the people who do spare some change have, as I learned in my conversations with them, turned out to be Jews, and Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists, as well as the usual collection of Catholics, and Protestants of all varieties. I am amazed that, because you don't care about the beliefs of those you feed, those that feed you are unconcerned about your beliefs. You have managed to transcend all of the in-fighting and silliness.

My hope, as Christmas approaches, is that we will all look at people in need and ask ourselves not, "How did they sink so low?" or "What is wrong with that person?", but "Who fed them their last hot meal?" It was probably you.

And I hope that they put, at least, a few coins in your kettle.

You're a good old broad Sally. I thank you.