Brock About Town: Giving back

Illustration by Lev Cantoral

I absolutely guarantee that none of you had as much fun as me this Halloween. I went to seven parties, wore three different costumes and ate 16 percent of my body weight in Twizzlers alone. I’m starting to think this phone number on my arm might be a tattoo, because it’s been a week and I still can’t get it to come off. Easily the spookiest thing I did was have a snowball fight down a back alley. (There’s nothing scarier than climate change, people.)

Unfortunately, fun has consequences. Now that I have completely lost my self-respect, as well as my pancreas and liver function, my mind turns to the future, and the future looks a little grim.

As you might have noticed re: the snow, the fun part of the year is starting to wrap up. From here on out, it’s all respiratory infections, uncomfortable conversations with your Aunt Mary about when you’ll have a baby (or at least health insurance) and trying to do new things with butternut squash. I know some people really love Christmas, and personally, I think those people are insane. December is just a month of extra chores, albeit unusually festive ones, that often make you feel a little gross. It’s very American to turn a religious holiday into a bacchanalia of consumerism and eating cheese in front of the TV instead of going out because even your sweatpants don’t fit anymore.

That said, if what I’ve written here describes your forthcoming holiday season, you’re lucky. There are a lot of people, in our community and others, who can’t afford food, let alone to go crazy on Black Friday. There are those for whom this part of the year, which I whine about because it’s cold and I look bad in turtlenecks, will truly suck because they’re sick or separated from their families. So, this year, get out of your head and do something nice for someone else.

This issue is full of nonprofits that would make great use of your time, money and talents. Pick one and find a way to give back. It’s a great way to score points with the man upstairs (Santa, obviously) and, if you’re anything like me, to atone for the fact that you woke up on Nov. 1 in a bed full of candy wrappers.

This article was originally published in Little Village issue 274.

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