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The hard lives of the needy made easier
By Beverly Beckham, Boston Herald columnist
The call to My Brother's Keeper came a few days before.
"What do you need?" Terry Orcutt had asked. That's what she always says. There are no histories taken. No judgments made. Ask and you shall receive. It's that simple.
The woman needed everything, but she asked only for beds for her three children.
“Do you have a table? Chairs? A couch? A chest of drawers?” Terry questioned.
“No,” the woman said.
They brought food first, and some pots and pans and silverware and dishes, because the woman had only two plates, two knives and two forks. That’s the way it is for millions of Americans. The United Nations reported Wednesday that 16.5% of Americans live in poverty, despite the fact that we are one of the wealthiest nations on earth. A mother and three children sleep on the floor and take turns sitting.
One of every six Americans lives like this.
The woman this day greeted the men delivering the furniture and asked only one question: "Did you bring me a cross?”
The cross is My Brother's Keeper's reason for being. It's what everyone gets after the furniture has been brought in and set up. "Thank you," the people say. Thank Him,” they're told. "We’re just the delivery people."
"In all the stories in the New Testament, Jesus never said to the people he healed, “What is it you do?” He asked, “What is it you need?” It’s need that is the sole prerequisite of My Brother’s Keeper.
“This is easy, what we do,” insists Jim Orcutt, Terry’s husband. “We carry furniture. We make deliveries. What the people we serve do is hard. Their lives are hard. We learn about faith through them.”
He told about Maria, nine months pregnant, with two kids, 4 and 3. She phoned for help, but when called back her phone had been disconnected. “So we just loaded up the truck and headed for her house.”
Her house: A second-floor flat. Plastic children's table and a single bed they were all sharing.
My Brother's Keeper delivered beds, sheets, chests of drawers, a table, chairs, food, plates, a refrigerator. But when they plugged in the refrigerator it didn't work.
"I don't have any electricity . . . It was shut off because I couldn’t pay the bill,” Maria said.
“How do you cook for your children?" Jim asked.
She explained that the people upstairs loaned her a microwave and ran an extension cord down the stairs in the afternoon. "But they take it back up before dark because they’re afraid someone will steal it.”
My Brother's Keeper paid half the bill and the electricity was turned back on.
Just the night before My Brother's Keeper arrived at her door, Maria and her kids shared an apple for dinner. “I cut up an apple and we went out on the porch to watch the stars.” Maria said they sang Alleluia to thank God for the apple. “When your guys started bringing that furniture in, I just knew that the Lord had heard us singing.” Maria said.
While politicians babble about all they have done and all they plan to do, if they are elected, people who aren’t in the headlines go about their days quietly making a big difference in the lives of the poor.
Back at the office, Terry answers the phone. A woman named Judith is crying. She has five children and no food. “We'll be there this afternoon between two and four," Terry says.
College students learn to give of selves
By Michael P. Quinlan, Patriot Ledger
For Jim Orcutt, there is a poor side of town everywhere he goes. In frayed apartment buildings, small rooming houses and homeless shelters throughout southeastern Massachusetts he meets people nestled in their worries and fears, barely holding on. Some are filled with quiet desperation or cynical resignation, hovering below the horizon of prosperity that glitters like the polished dream of America. Others are mentally ill people prone to sudden outbursts of confusion or children caught in some painful transition.
"What can we do to help the poor?" asks Orcutt, who with his wife, Terry, founded My Brother's Keeper, a group devoted to helping the neediest people in society. Since 1988, the Orcutts and a group of volunteers of the ministry have gathered in a Brockton warehouse every day to prepare furniture and household items for delivery to the area's poorest poor.
"Many of the people we serve have a strong faith in God," Terry Orcutt says. "These are women who may have escaped an abusive relationship, unwed teenage mothers, people recovering from drug or alcohol addiction, or old folks with no one left on this earth to bring a message of love and hope. Very often we find a mother and her children living in an empty apartment. They may have food stamps from the government, but no one to give them a refrigerator or a bed for their children."
The group accepts no government funding for its work, but instead relies entirely on donations from local institutions and individuals. The volunteers include accountants, teachers, printers, priests and carpenters. They are Catholic, Protestant, Jewish and Muslim.
And there are young men like Erich Miller and Octavio Martin, both graduates of the University of Notre Dame, who have set aside their careers to work at My Brother’s Keeper. They are part of the Holy Cross Associates Program, a volunteer program that sends college graduates into the world of the poor. Both men work 40-hour weeks, collecting used furniture from college dorms or food from local churches, organizing the warehouse, making deliveries and answering phones.
Miller, a business major, and Martin, with a degree aerospace engineering, are young mentors to a new generation of college students who are about to embark on a unique new program. Starting next year, My Brother's Keeper will have its headquarters on Stonehill College's campus in Easton, part of an effort to bring Catholic/Christian service to Catholic colleges.
Outside the building will stand a statue of Jesus washing the feet of Peter, with the inscription "To lead is to Serve."
"I can think of nothing better than for students to walk to class each morning and pass by My Brother's Keeper," said Stonehill College President the Rev. Bartley MacPhaidin, a member of the Congregation of the Holy Cross. "It will remind them that a Catholic education also means recognizing the obligation we have to help God's poorest children. Compassion, charity and humility are guiding principles of all religions, and need to be re-asserted in our time."
"Many college students come from affluent homes, and ale rarely exposed to the invisible sub-culture of people living on society's edge," Jim Orcutt says. "What they find poor people value most is not the furnishings we bring, but the comfort of knowing that someone cares. It gives students a new perspective on what matters in life.”
On Nov. 29 the students and volunteers, along with college and town officials, gathered on Stonehill College's campus to consecrate the ground where the ministry will be built. They expressed thanks for what they have by praying together, and then went back into their delivery truck to continue their work. Having looked into the eyes of people neglected and languishing at the end of the American century, they have come to understand the rewards of a college education.
More people than ever need a helping hand
By Elaine Allegrini, Enterprise staff writer
Last year's high heating costs, combined with the ever-rising cost of living, has left a residual effect on those who live on the edge, according to area social service leaders.
With the winter heating season just a cold-spell away and the holiday season on the doorstep, requests for food stamps, heating assistance and holiday help are on the rise.
In Brockton alone, requests for food stamps are up 10 to 15 percent, an indication that more and more people are falling under the national poverty guidelines, said Robert Martin, director of human resources for Mayor James E. Harrington.
"More people who work full or part time call this office for assistance," said Martin, who links the needy with social service agencies in the city and the region.
Martin recently joined several social service providers from Brockton, Taunton and area suburbs to kick off the annual Enterprise Helping Hands drive, the annual holiday drive supported with donations from families, individuals, businesses, civic and school groups and administered by The Enterprise Charitable Foundation.
The foundation raises money through direct donations and fund-raising events such as the Dec. 9 Jingle Bell Run in Brockton.
Last year, Enterprise readers donated $10,000 more than past years, allowing distribution of $67,500 to 20 charitable agencies throughout the region.
Every cent raised through the Helping Hands Fund goes directly to local needy families.
A donor coupon runs daily in the newspaper, and a list of contributors is published weekly in the newspaper.
"The need of our neighbors from year to year doesn't diminish, but neither does the generosity of Enterprise readers," said Chazy Dowaliby, editor of The Enterprise. "Serving as a conduit for so much real holiday spirit is a true joy of the season for all of us."
This year, social service administrators say the basic needs remain — food, heat and shelter. They also strive to provide holiday gifts for children.
"We're seeing families who are still recoiling from last year," said Charles Fiske of Brockton Area Multi-Service Inc. (BAMSI). "They are trying to play catch-up and more people are in the mix."
Resources are strained — from Taunton's St. Vincent dePaul food pantry trying to keep its shelves stocked to the Salvation Army of Brockton staying abreast of fuel assistance requests.
Affordable housing is another ever-present and increasing need, according to Tom Washington of MainSpring House in Brockton, which offers a shelter for homeless singles in addition to family housing.
"People are struggling to get into housing," he said.
The biggest obstacle for many is amassing first and last month's rent and a security deposit.
Ken Kristiansen, pastor and commanding officer of Salvation Army of Brockton, said many immigrants are also seeking aid.
While the bulk of need rests in the cities where many settle to take advantage of transportation and consolidated services, Dennis Carman of United Way of Greater Plymouth County said there are pockets of need throughout the region that are often unrecognized.
"There are a lot of isolated elders who don't know where the services are," he said.
"The invisible poor is something we see all the time," said Erich Miller of My Brothers Keeper of Easton that provides furniture and food throughout the year and holiday gifts during the season.
To date, more than 400 families have applied for help this holiday season, according to James Orcutt, president of My Brothers Keeper. Last year, the agency filled more than 1,600 requests for holiday aide. Included in that group were 4,900 children.
"There's no agony greater than not be able to provide for your child," said Orcutt, noting the importance of Helping Hands in supporting the effort to provide for children during the holidays.
"For us, it's the happiest and most joyful time of the year," added Miller. "For people on the edge, it's the most stressful time of the year."
Golfers make pitch for charity
By Matthew Leonido, Enterprise special correspondent
Last year, the rain put a damper on the first charity golf tournament for My Brother's Keeper, but its second annual event Friday was held in the sunshine, and drew more golfers in its first day than the entire three-day event last year.
"Tough weather last year, but the sun is shining, God is shining on us so we expect a big turnout," Jim Orcutt, founder of My Brother's Keeper, said.
My Brother's Keeper is a charity sponsored by Orcutt's volunteer Christian ministry, which he founded with his wife Theresa in 1988. They provide furniture and food to more than 2,500 needy families each year.
They also promise to provide a $1 million prize for a hole-in-one, but there has been no grand-prize winner yet.
The qualifying round of the second annual tournament continues today at Stonehill College, leading up to the semifinal and final rounds to be held Sunday at the Easton Country Club.
To qualify for Sunday, participants have to land a ball within 6 feet of the pin, located about 125 yards from the row of tees. Buckets of golf balls were available for donations of $10 and $20, with all proceeds benefiting My Brother's Keeper.
Abington resident Arthur Greenlaw was glad to donate toward a good cause while having fun.
"I've been looking forward to this. You can go hit a bucket of balls at the driving range, so why not do it for charity," said Greenlaw, 39.
Brad McMenimon of Easton made it into the semifinal round when one of his shots landed 7 inches from the flag. He came to the event to compete with his daughter, Jacki.
"My daughter was in the finals last year, so I had to come give it a shot," McMenimon, 52, said.
The first day of qualifying found competitors vying for a $500 charitable donation and a trophy.
Brockton Mayor James E. Harrington, who was on hand to take the first shot, beat out five other contestants from the Brockton and Boston-area media to win the opening contest. This reporter from The Enterprise took his best shot, but fell short of the pin.
Harrington designated the $500 donation to the Mayor's Children Fund and matched the donation with $500 of his own to My Brother's Keeper.
"My Brother's Keeper is a tremendous organization. It's going to be a great event, I am glad to be a part of it," Harrington said.
The Orcutts got started using their basement as a warehouse and car roof racks to deliver furniture. Since then, they have made donations to nearly 15,000 families.
They give gifts and keep the faith
By Beverly Beckham, Boston Herald columnist
Three time a day they stop and pray. There's a prayer room outside the warehouse. Prayer keeps them on course. Prayer keeps them focused on God.
It's all about God at My Brother's Keeper. You step into the warehouse, converted for Christmas into Santa's workshop, and it's magical. You hear "Frosty the Snowman'' and see rows and rows of new bikes and shelves packed high with toys.
Men are sorting things and women are wrapping and volunteers come and go through one door, while a police officer, with a bag of gifts, appears at another.
It's typically Christmas.
What is not typical is that all this is being done in the name of God. Christmas is about Christ here. My Brother's Keeper is unapologetically a Christian ministry whose mission is "To bring the love and hope of Jesus Christ to those we serve.''
God guides, God provides.
My Brother's Keeper serves all people, whatever their faith. Eleven months of the year this Brockton-based ministry provides furniture and food. Need is the only criteria. Ask and you shall receive. It's only at the end of a delivery, when people are saying thanks, that the guys who lug in the furniture reply, "Don't thank us. We're just the delivery people.'' And hand over a crucifix.
My Brother's Keeper is able to do this because it accepts no federal money. Begun in 1988 in the basement of one couple's home, it is 100 percent privately funded and has only two paid staff but hundreds of volunteers.
Last year it made more than 30,000 deliveries in 58 communities from Dorchester to Taunton. In 1991, when it began providing Christmas gifts too, it took care of just 14 families. Twelve years later, it brought food and gifts to 1,508 families and toys to more than 5,000 kids. This year, more than 2,000 families have asked for help.
Every gift that leaves the warehouse bears this sticker: "Happy Birthday, Jesus.'' The founder of My Brother's Keeper, who does not want his name mentioned ("This isn't about me''), says that for many children this sticker is an introduction to Jesus.
People ask him, "How do you get so much work done with volunteer help?''
"We're not working. We're serving,'' he says.
A few years ago a man started donating bikes. Now his entire family donates bikes, 155 of them this year. Another family donates helmets, another Game Boys. Corporations donate. Hundreds of people give money. Churches set up giving trees. And hundreds more adopt a family for Christmas.
My Brother's Keeper has no cash reserves. It gives away everything it gets.
This year, as in past years, it needs volunteers, sponsors, toys and people willing to give. "This year, as rough as things are, Christ needs us more than ever,'' its leader says. For the true meaning of Christmas don't go to the mall. Visit www.mybrotherskeeper.com instead.
As it celebrates it's 20th year, My Brother's Keeper bids farewell to founders
By Vicki-Ann Downing, Brockton Enterprise
The simple bungalow on Everett Street in Taunton doesn’t look like a place where grace struck two decades ago. But it was there, on a Sunday night in March 1988, that life changed forever for James and Theresa Orcutt, empty-nesters in their mid-40s, full-time employees at the Paul A. Dever State School.
That moment grew into their Christian-based ministry, My Brother’s Keeper, which operates now from a 15,000-square-foot warehouse on Congregation of Holy Cross land next to Stonehill College. It has an 11-member board of directors and an eight-member development team and is funded entirely through private donations.
My Brother’s Keeper will mark its 20th anniversary with a dinner on Wednesday. at the Marriott Hotel in Quincy.
Each year, volunteers deliver furniture and food to thousands of needy families in 25 communities from Dorchester to Taunton and Pembroke to Mansfield. There is no pre-qualification process. People need only ask to receive.
The couple also has a Christmas program, which began at Terry Orcutt’s urging in 1991 when toys and clothing were delivered to 14 families in Brockton.
Last Christmas, with operations running around the clock for two weeks, My Brother’s Keeper delivered gifts to 1,836 families in 59 communities from the North Shore to Cape Cod. More than 1,300 volunteers helped, 550 for the first time.
One day at a time
On that evening in March 1988, the Orcutts sat down to watch a made-for-television movie, “God Bless the Child.” Actress Mare Winningham starred as a mother battling homelessness to provide for her young daughter.
Their plight touched the Orcutts deeply. Perhaps, they say now, the seeds had been planted weeks before, when they each took part in a Cursillo retreat at the Holy Cross Retreat House in Easton.
Jim said Terry stood in the doorway of a small bedroom at their rented home, looking at the twin bed, dresser, lamp and chair. With tears in her eyes, she told Jim, “This is all they needed: Some place to stay and someone who cared.”
The Orcutts stayed awake talking until 3 a.m. “It was the most important conversation of our marriage,” Jim Orcutt said.
They held hands before a crucifix and made a covenant with God, which Jim points out has always been a two-way agreement: “God, we’re serious about this. We will spend the rest of our lives bringing your love and hope to people. If you guide us, there will never be another day for the rest of our lives when this won’t come first.”
Twenty years later, the Orcutts can report that both they and God kept the bargain.
“If God had given us a flash-forward back then, showing me a brand-new building adjacent to a Catholic college, a fleet of trucks and thousands of volunteers, I would have put my head in my hands and said, ‘Oh, no, we can’t do that,’” said Orcutt.
The Orcutts believe they have succeeded by never losing sight of their mission: “To bring the love and hope of Jesus Christ to those we serve.”
Charity began at home
The couple began by collecting donated items and storing them on shelves in their basement. Jim Orcutt transported everything in his 1984 Chevrolet Cavalier with 120,000 miles on it, topped by a roof rack borrowed from a nephew.
In search of people in need, they called agencies and shelters in the telephone book. One day, MainSpring House, the homeless shelter in Brockton, said a woman was moving into an apartment and had no furniture. Could the Orcutts help? They had found their niche. They began collecting donations of furniture.
“As quickly as we were collecting it, we were giving it away,” Terry Orcutt said.
Jim switched to the night shift at work to free up his days for deliveries.
“After three months, word started to come back to us: ‘Jim and Terry Orcutt, they’re wonderful people, they help anybody,’” he said. “But our covenant wasn’t to glorify Jim and Terry Orcutt, it was to bring God’s love to people.”
One day, making a delivery in Brockton, they handed a woman a crucifix, telling her, “This is the man who sent you the furniture. We are just the delivery people.”
The woman began to cry.
“We knew we were on the right track,” said Jim. “At that moment our ministry began. We were bringing the love and hope of Jesus Christ to people.”
This year, My Brother’s Keeper will deliver its 15,000th crucifix. To recipients who object, volunteers say, “Whoever your God is, that’s who sent you the furniture.”
It really doesn’t matter what their volunteers carry up the stairs of a tenement or apartment house, said Jim. It might look like a refrigerator, a carton of food or a box of Christmas presents. What the volunteers really deliver is hope.
Typical of the letters from recipients received by My Brother’s Keeper is one from Jacquelyn in Quincy:
“We are very grateful for what you guys are doing for me and my kids. Without you, we wouldn’t have any Christmas. Thank God you guys exist. God bless you and the whole crew of My Brother’s Keeper.”
Looking ahead
In January, Jim Orcutt stepped down from the daily administration of My Brother’s Keeper, leaving that work to the newly named executive director, Erich Miller.
Miller, a Notre Dame graduate, was the ministry’s first paid employee in 1998. Now there are three others: Stonehill graduates Ryan Thorley and Josh Smith and Assumption College graduate Beth Sheehan. All began as student volunteers.
Jim, now 68, and Terry, 63, have never received money for their work at My Brother’s Keeper. They remain members of the board of directors, with Jim as president and Terry, secretary.
They are a daily presence at the warehouse, where Terry still takes calls from people seeking assistance.
In their 37th year of marriage, they live in a rented house in Easton and drive older cars. Their three children have given them six grandchildren. Their only income comes from running retreats at the Holy Cross Retreat House for 30 weekends a year.
They remain confident that God will continue to guide the work they began two decades ago.
“God is the focus of what we do,” said Terry. “If we stay focused on him, then everything else falls into place. Hopefully what we do, we do for the glory of God.”
Getting help
My Brother’s Keeper Helpline, 508- 238-4416, is answered on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday between 12:30 and 3 p.m. Due to the volume of calls, voice messages are not accepted. To donate furniture to My Brother’s Keeper, call 508-238-7512. Furniture pickups are scheduled between January and mid-November. For more information on communities served and where furniture is accepted, visit www.mybrotherskeeper.org. Financial donations may be sent to: My Brother’s Keeper, Inc., P.O. Box 338, Easton, MA 02356.
My Brother's Keeper rare among non-profits
By Vicki-Ann Downing, Brockton Enterprise
Dennis Carman, president of the United Way of Greater Plymouth County, says that My Brother's Keeper is rare among non-profits because it has remained true to its faith-based origins by not accepting public funding.
"They provide a needed service without any of the strings that come attached with other funding sources," said Carman, who is former director at Father Bills and MainSpring Coalition of the Homeless.
"They have been there consistently through some difficult times, and I'd say some even more difficult times to come. As the need increases, they increase their efforts, and in a very quiet way they succeed," said Carman.
"They ask from their hearts and they believe people give from their hearts."
For 2005, the last year for which public records are available, My Brother's Keeper reported revenue of $1.49 million and expenses of $1.35 million.
Early on, Jim and Terry Orcutt, founders of the Christian-based non-profit, decided to provide what they could to anyone who requested it without requiring proof of financial need or eligibility.
The idea came from Terry Orcutt.
She told her husband Jim, "In all of our readings of the New Testament, I don't believe there's one time when Jesus ever asked a single question to see if a person was worthy before helping. I think we should do the same."
My Brother's Keeper maintains a strict quality control program. It accepts furniture, bedding and dishes in very good condition.
"When you're telling people the items you deliver come from God, you can't give junk," Jim Orcutt explained.
Their four white trucks are unmarked so there is no stigma attached. "God knows our name, that's enough," said Terry.
They don't accept public funds because if they did, they couldn't distribute crucifixes, which are given to each recipient.
Plus, Jim Orcutt said, it's too easy to become reliant on government funding, which can wither in hard times.
They are always on guard against the human tendency to become judgmental, even when patience grows thin on broiling summer days as they struggle up narrow stairs to reach a third-floor apartment.
"If I want a judge I'll go down to probate court and get myself a judge," said Jim.
The coming charity crisis
By Daniel Gross, Newsweek
The latest victims of the sagging economy: charities. In May the annual gala of the Robin Hood Foundation, an event at which a few thousand hedge fund magnates and leveraged buyout titans conspicuously display their wealth and commitment to social justice while rocking out to A-list musical guests (Shakira, John Legend, Sheryl Crow), raised $56.5 million, down 21.5 percent from $72 million the year before. (Tom Wolfe profiled the 2006 gala in Portfolio.) No surprise here. Many of the regulars have seen their net worths crushed in the past year.
But it's not just the charities of the swank that are suffering. The Salvation Army caters to a somewhat different crowd—i.e., tens of millions of middle-class Americans. And while it had a good Christmas, "since the first of the year, we've seen some slippage," says Maj. George Hood, a Salvation Army spokesman. Overall donations are down compared with 2007, and donations of used clothing and furniture to thrift shops have fallen by 20 percent. While natural disasters typically inspire a spike in donations, Hood says the earthquakes in China, the cyclones in Burma and the floods in the Midwest have yet to generate such an outpouring.
It would be unfair to say that Americans—whether they are accountants in Kansas City, Mo., or bond traders in Greenwich, Conn.—are becoming stingier. Rather, philanthropy is a pretty large industry. Charitable giving in 2006 was $295.2 billion, according to Giving USA 2006, about 2.2 percent of gross domestic product. For comparison's sake, Wal-Mart has annual sales of about $350 billion. And like every other industry, philanthropy is tethered directly to the health of the overall economy, and in particular to the health of the upper-middle-class consumer. If the past is any guide, it's likely to be a lean year for nonprofits.
A great deal of the public attention about philanthropy is generated by large, dramatic gifts by really rich people—the types who tend to be unaffected by short-term economic fluctuations. But while splashy donations like the $100 million the Blackstone Group's Steven Schwarzman committed to the New York Public Library might garner large headlines, or land a donor on the "Slate 60," such megagifts in 2006 represented just 1.3 percent of overall donations, according to Giving USA. Rather, it's the smaller donations by hundreds of millions of nonbillionaire Americans that fuel most of the nation's nonprofits. (In 2006 individuals accounted for about three-quarters of donations.)
With the economy slowing and likely in recession, charitable giving will probably slump this year and possibly next. After all, charitable donations are a lagging indicator, says Robert Evans, managing director of EHL Consulting Group, a Philadelphia-based firm that advises nonprofits on fund-raising. "It's a lagging indicator for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that in the minds of some, philanthropy is a luxury. You pay your bills first and then start making charitable gifts."
The data seems to bear Evans out. During the last 40 years, according to data provided by Giving USA, charitable giving fell in real terms (i.e., adjusted for inflation) in years in which the economy was in recession, or in years in which there was a significant stock market dislocation. Giving fell in 1980, 1987, and 1990. The last time the economy contracted was in 2001. That year, according to Giving USA, charitable giving fell 2.3 percent in real terms, after having boomed along with the stock markets and the economy at large in the late 1990s. But while the economy resumed its growth in late 2001, charitable giving slumped in real terms in both 2001 (down 1.4 percent) and 2003 (down 0.2 percent). Evans believes giving is less tied to overall economic trends than to traumatic events that might cause donors to seize up for a few months, such as 9/11, the Kennedy assassination, or Watergate. Indeed, 1974, the year the Nixon resignation drama played out, was the worst year for charitable giving in the past 40 years. Donations fell 5.4 percent in real terms that year.
Evans suggests that the best indicators to watch aren't the hauls from splashy public events such as the Robin Hood gala or the results of the Salvation Army, which relies on middle-class donors. The most effective fund-raising efforts aren't parties but efforts in which people appeal to their friends and colleagues face to face. And over the years, he believes, philanthropy, like the U.S. economy itself, has become more top-heavy. In a prior generation, 80 percent of funds were donated by 20 percent of the people. Now he believes the ratio is more like 90 percent donated by 10 percent of donors. "Today we have to be looking at the high end [those with incomes of more than $100,000 a year] more than ever before." If layoffs of white-collar workers at companies such as Ford continue, and if the United Way campaigns that rely so much on upper-level management struggle, 2008 could be a lean year for nonprofits.
"Whatever
you do for the most humble of my people, you do for me."
Matthew 25:40