A Nickel-and-Dime Job

When I see a nickel on the ground, I don't usually stoop to pick it up. I mean, what can it buy nowadays? Not even a mini York Peppermint Patty, right? I think those are at least a dime.

Even a dime I sometimes walk right by. A quarter will draw my attention — with that, you can get a gumball to spin down the swirly ramp in one of those special gumball machines. But even then, it depends on the state of my lower back. I can't even tell you the amount the change I haven’t picked up in my day amounts to. At least enough to buy a whole bag of peppermint patties.

Or, as it turns out, to become a philanthropist.

Those who work at Bread for the City, a comprehensive social-service organization in Washington, D.C., usually don't expect to receive donations from the people they serve with case management, food donations and medical care.

But Margaret S. was determined to give back. She has been coming to Bread for the City for decades and volunteering there since 1990. One thing she does is scour newspapers and magazines for mentions of Bread for the City and prepare a packet of clippings every few weeks. The organization's development associate Greg Bloom is impressed with her efforts; "she finds things even I've missed," he said. "And I'm the communications person."

However, that valuable task apparently isn't enough for Margaret. No, despite her severely limited means, Margaret also sends donation checks. Which brings us to the nickels and dimes. The amounts she sends may be humble — the most recent, which arrived this week, weighed in at $9.83 — but the way she raises the money shows that anyone who cares enough can help: She pools the lost spare change she finds on the ground.

Where I see gumballs, she sees help for someone who needs it offered by an organization she has come to admire and trust.

"She is very protective and supportive of us," Bloom commented. At the 2008 ceremony where Bread for the City presented her with an award for her gallant volunteer efforts, Margaret made it clear that the organization has a special place in her heart.

Bread for the City, she said, "is a kind of madhouse, but it's a good madhouse because people get taken care of." And that's in part because of a dedicated beneficiary-cum-donor who has a back strong enough — and a heart big enough — to pick up that nickel.