The Fun in Fundraising
I do believe that everyone should volunteer in their community. Find an agency you believe in, and give some of your time to make someone else’s life better. My choice is the Boys and Girls Club. It’s an organization that helps to level the playing field for the youth in the community. The Club offers all children a chance to learn computer, sports, study, organizational, presentation, and social skills. By providing a safe place to stay and play after school, children are given a wonderful opportunity to “belong” to a positive group in their community. The ‘disadvantaged’ youth, often children of single parents and those more often in a low socio-economic group can learn skills so that they can feel competitive with the kids from wealthier families. Denzel Washington and Colin Powell will attest to the positive effect that membership in a Boys and Girls club can have in a young life. I believe in the merits of this organization and I give my time to help it.
So for the third year, I have packed my car with articles needed to help our local Club run a fundraiser called “Kenducky Derby.” It’s a rubber duck race. Board members sell tickets for ducks at $5 a piece to raise funds to enhance the programs for the children at the Club in our town, and solicit prizes for winners of the duck race. Computers and printers break, as do windows, and sports equipment needs to be replaced, and staff needs to be paid, and this is a fun family event which helps with that task. Board members gather at 9:30 AM at a local park whose attraction is a stream that runs through it. Hip boots afoot, one member constructs a wooden chute to direct rubber ducks traversing the shallow stream in a neat row. Other members set up a tent, tables, games, and grill all to entertain families for an annual duck race.
The Board members are amateurs at fundraising events, but each works enthusiastically to make the activity a money maker and a fun family day. Last year, the director was called away suddenly, and the volunteers did their best to ensure that the event would run smoothly. Unfortunately, the chute in the stream was too broad, and the ducks raced down the stream and through the opening at a rapid rate, Too rapid, in fact to determine which duck came in first, second and third. The state gambling association sent an inspector who wrote a letter detailing many mis- steps in the day. We were to correct the mistakes for the race this year.
So for the duck race this year, we brought in an enthusiastic carpenter who constructed a wonderful device in mid- stream that corralled the rubber ducks in a V and allowed only one at a time to pass through its entrance. Our “Start” and “ Stop” signs were bold black on white material and hung smartly. The state permit was properly displayed on the tent, and we brought two large trash cans. Ducks were neatly labeled with readable black numbers on plastic as tickets were sold. Ticket stubs were properly stacked numerically. The race began promptly at 1 PM as promised. Two of us dumped 467 ducks over a bridge into the fast moving water, and our town council member, followed the ducks downstream with a megaphone, announcing the ducks’ progress with humor and wit. Children and their parents cheered the bobbing plastic ducks from the bank of the stream. It all seemed so perfect- all of our ducks were in a row, so to speak. The state gambling inspector looked pleased.
After my duck dump, my next assignment was to run to the finish line and capture the ducks into a prepared case with numbered slots. We could then determine the first ten places in the race and award the winners. Plan B was to have our ‘duck collector midstream in hip boots capturing the ducks as they made their way through the finish line opening. He was to yell out the number of each duck as it approached the finish line then put it in its proper slot in the container. As the ducks raced through the ‘gate,’ they were placed one at a time into a crate with slots, and when the slots, one through ten were filled, the crate was given to me. I ran to the tent to declare winners and post them. It was as I approached the tent, I realized why my fellow board member failed to call out the numbers of the winning ducks. The ducks had no numbers. The numbers had dissolved in the water on their trip down the stream.
The excited participants followed me to the tent awaiting the announcement of the winners, but the director and fellow board members were in shock. We had the winning ducks, but knew not their numbers nor who had bought them. There was only one thing to do. Admit the problem, renumber the ducks and rerun the race. And we did. As I dumped the plastic ducks over the bridge and into the stream once again, I reminded participants of their real luck. “When in life do you ever get a second chance to win?” I shouted to the crowd. And the state inspector simply smiled.
So for the third year, I have packed my car with articles needed to help our local Club run a fundraiser called “Kenducky Derby.” It’s a rubber duck race. Board members sell tickets for ducks at $5 a piece to raise funds to enhance the programs for the children at the Club in our town, and solicit prizes for winners of the duck race. Computers and printers break, as do windows, and sports equipment needs to be replaced, and staff needs to be paid, and this is a fun family event which helps with that task. Board members gather at 9:30 AM at a local park whose attraction is a stream that runs through it. Hip boots afoot, one member constructs a wooden chute to direct rubber ducks traversing the shallow stream in a neat row. Other members set up a tent, tables, games, and grill all to entertain families for an annual duck race.
The Board members are amateurs at fundraising events, but each works enthusiastically to make the activity a money maker and a fun family day. Last year, the director was called away suddenly, and the volunteers did their best to ensure that the event would run smoothly. Unfortunately, the chute in the stream was too broad, and the ducks raced down the stream and through the opening at a rapid rate, Too rapid, in fact to determine which duck came in first, second and third. The state gambling association sent an inspector who wrote a letter detailing many mis- steps in the day. We were to correct the mistakes for the race this year.
So for the duck race this year, we brought in an enthusiastic carpenter who constructed a wonderful device in mid- stream that corralled the rubber ducks in a V and allowed only one at a time to pass through its entrance. Our “Start” and “ Stop” signs were bold black on white material and hung smartly. The state permit was properly displayed on the tent, and we brought two large trash cans. Ducks were neatly labeled with readable black numbers on plastic as tickets were sold. Ticket stubs were properly stacked numerically. The race began promptly at 1 PM as promised. Two of us dumped 467 ducks over a bridge into the fast moving water, and our town council member, followed the ducks downstream with a megaphone, announcing the ducks’ progress with humor and wit. Children and their parents cheered the bobbing plastic ducks from the bank of the stream. It all seemed so perfect- all of our ducks were in a row, so to speak. The state gambling inspector looked pleased.
After my duck dump, my next assignment was to run to the finish line and capture the ducks into a prepared case with numbered slots. We could then determine the first ten places in the race and award the winners. Plan B was to have our ‘duck collector midstream in hip boots capturing the ducks as they made their way through the finish line opening. He was to yell out the number of each duck as it approached the finish line then put it in its proper slot in the container. As the ducks raced through the ‘gate,’ they were placed one at a time into a crate with slots, and when the slots, one through ten were filled, the crate was given to me. I ran to the tent to declare winners and post them. It was as I approached the tent, I realized why my fellow board member failed to call out the numbers of the winning ducks. The ducks had no numbers. The numbers had dissolved in the water on their trip down the stream.
The excited participants followed me to the tent awaiting the announcement of the winners, but the director and fellow board members were in shock. We had the winning ducks, but knew not their numbers nor who had bought them. There was only one thing to do. Admit the problem, renumber the ducks and rerun the race. And we did. As I dumped the plastic ducks over the bridge and into the stream once again, I reminded participants of their real luck. “When in life do you ever get a second chance to win?” I shouted to the crowd. And the state inspector simply smiled.
posted by Lucy and Annie | 7:08 PM
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