On Thursday, February 20, Helping Hands of Norwich held the second Community Donation night. When I decided to attend and volunteer for the event I anticipated handing out some free goods, and maybe meeting some new people. What I did not anticipate was gaining a whole new perspective on what kind of community Norwich is.

Volunteers were asked to arrive at 6 p.m. I arrived at the Norwich YMCA at 5:45 p.m., thinking if I was early I could help with the initial set up. When I arrived the YMCA parking lot was full and the drop off turn around was lined with cars double parked dropping off donations.

There was still 45 minutes before the door opened for receiving and there was already a line forming. Residents were waiting to fill bags and boxes and be the first ones to benefit from the night of giving. Some mentioned they were there early because they were worried the goods would run out before they had a chance to go through the line. Little did they know how big the donation night had grown.

I walked inside to find Event Coordinator Lorri Race surrounded by volunteers looking for direction. In all the chaos she greeted me with a smile and thanked me for being there. Now that I think about it, I don't think I saw Lorri without a smile on her face the entire night.

She asked if she could put me to work, which I happily obliged. She handed me a box of baby wipes and asked me to put them out. As soon as I took that box from her, she was off, needing to handle the next task on what I'm sure was an endless list.

The entire room reminded me of a beehive full of busy worker bees. It was organized chaos. Once the baby table was overflowing with wipes, diapers, and baby food I set out to find my next task. All of the volunteers were so kind and ready to put you to work. All I needed to do was walk up to and say, "What can I do?" and someone would have a task.

After setting up the cleaning supplies I had a man walk up to me with three large boxes and ask where he should put them. The contents of the boxes were a mystery to both him and I, so I opened one up to discover reusable water bottles. Looking around the room, I was perplexed as to where we could start unloading about 200 water bottles. Then I spotted an empty table, at the end of the line, and quickly laid claim to the space.

That's the thing about these grass route efforts, it wasn't overly structured, allowing people to problem solve on their own. While unloading the water bottles a woman with boxes of cakes, brownies, and cookies came over looking for a place to lay out the fresh baked goods. I looked over to the food tables, which were beyond capacity. With space still available where I stood, I of course told them to put them at the open table and I would ensure they were properly displayed and handed out.

While setting up, I took a moment to look around the room and absorb what was happening around me. There was no one arguing, no one fighting over space. Volunteers who had never met each other before found common ground discussing how they collected their donations and sharing volunteer experiences. People were excited for the doors to open. You could feel the anticipation in the air, like a positive electric charge waiting to be released.

Before Lorri opened the doors, she took a moment to address the room of over 50 volunteers. She thanked everyone for time, energy, and donations. You could hear the genuine gratitude in every word she spoke. But what really stuck with me was the only instruction she gave.

"Everyone already knows to take just one of each thing. Please just make everyone coming in feel welcome and encourage them to come back next month."

This was such a simple yet powerful message. The point of the volunteers standing along the tables was not to "regulate" the people receiving goods or to police them. But rather to show the people coming through that line that there’s a community of people behind them. We were there to show support, and kindness, to offer understanding and assistance, not judgement.

As people started moving down the line, I noticed one little girl break from the line to run straight to the toy table. She kindly asked for a Barbie Doll in a pink box, to which the volunteer happily obliged. I found out later she had seen the pink box when she first walked in and was worried it would be gone before she could make her way to it. She asked a volunteer if she could run ahead to grab the doll, to which the volunteer happily agreed. She was towards the front of the line, and chances were if she had waited she still would have gotten the doll. But the point of the event is not to teach patience or to maintain structure. The point of the event is to allow people to get the things they need to improve their quality of life. To that little girl, the doll in the pink box was exactly that.

I stood behind the table with the water bottles and cakes and waited as the line made their way down to me. By the time people reached my table their reusable t-shirt bags were sagging to the floor, stuffed with food, toiletries, cleaning supplies, and clothing. Often I would spot someone only halfway through the line and already struggling to carry their bag, which was reminiscent to Santa's sack. I would run and grab them another bag, sometimes even a box so they could distribute the weight.

When I wasn't dashing around to hand out bags, I was manning the cake table. That table was near the end of line, and people were struggling to find a place to put their cake without it getting tossed around in their bags. As serendipity would have it, to my right was another table handing out insulated reusable lunch bags. I began assisting people with putting their cake in the lunch bag to keep it safe on its travels home. Many people were walking their goods home.

While standing at that table I encountered many faces. Some of them were smiling, asking me how my day was, excited to realize there was free cake. Some of them avoided eye contact with me, ignored my small talk, some didn't even take any cake. I recognized some faces, and learned some new ones that I greatly hope to see next time.

It's important to note this was the case not only for the people coming through the line, but for the volunteers as well. We are all human, we all struggle. Regardless of social status, income, or education. Everyone needs help at some point in life, someone to offer a hand up. That's exactly what this night was for. Community helping community.

This lesson was really driven home at the end of the night. After everything was cleaned up, and the doors were about the close, a family showed up. They had just heard from their neighbors about the night of giving and wondered if there was anything left. There was a stock pile of donations left over, but they had already been distributed to volunteers to be stored at their homes. Disappointed but understanding, the family agreed they would come back in a month for the next donation night.

As the family prepared to return home, one volunteer overheard the situation, and decided to take action. "We've got one bag left, you got the last one," they said. This volunteer, who had earlier gone through the line themselves to collect items for their family, handed over their own bag to the family in need. The faces of that family lit up as the volunteer handed them the over-stuffed bag.

That single gesture embodied the entire objective of the community donation night. One community member seeing another community member’s need, realizing they could do something to help, and taking action.

I've often seen this community as close-fisted. With the amount of poverty plaguing the area, I could never blame people for being self-serving. However seeing that altruistic act along with the entire community donation night, I learned that the residents of Norwich, and even Chenango County, are humble, charitable, and kind. I heard someone say that night, "It just takes one person to spark the flame." Because of Lorri Race and the countless volunteers who decided to spark that flame, I can see our community opening their clenched fists, and placing it in the hand of their neighbor.