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 Editorials | Opinions | December 2006 
O Palapa, O Palapa
 Kevin Kalley - Star-Telegram
I was showing acquaintances some photos from the last of 15 Christmas holidays spent in Puerto Vallarta when one woman chastised me.
"Why are you helping kids in Mexico? We have plenty right here that need Christmas toys!"
Teary-eyed, talking about something I was proud of, I found myself being verbally assaulted for "certainly having [my] priorities screwed up."
That year, we had given away more than 200 stuffed animals to some of the poorest children in this beachside paradise. The pictures showed smiling children clutching a teddy bear or Tickle-Me Elmo. Some were children of adult beach vendors; many more were helping support their families by peddling handicrafts or Chiclets.
My partner, David, and I started going away for the holidays nearly 30 years ago. We found ourselves spending too much money on unnecessary gifts just to have something under the tree. With no profound religious entanglements, we found that the commercialism of the holidays made for a great excuse to get away. That, and having three mothers between us (all within a 5-mile radius), made for a logistical nightmare rife with potential recriminations.
We had come upon a tradition of decorating palapas, those palm-frond beach umbrellas, on an earlier Christmas getaway to Acapulco. So for our first trip to Puerto Vallarta, we took a suitcase full of plastic snowflakes and shiny ornaments with which we happily adorned our palapa. At the end of the day, those cute beach-vendor kids who had been selling us blankets and T-shirts asked for the ornaments. Each seemed thrilled with a little keepsake.
The following year, friends from the next palapa spent Christmas Eve baking cookies and gingerbread men at their condo. As we gave away our holiday trinkets, they were passing out sweet treats to a crowd of joyous beach urchins. A competition was brewing.
The next season, our Grapevine neighbors gave us a couple of dozen stuffed animals that their kids had outgrown. They became the basis of our palapa-decorating theme that year. Little did we know that the previous year's palapa neighbors were returning with a trunk full of decorations and toys.
In subsequent years, the decorations became like something you'd see in the Macy's parade. Palapas were turned into igloos, a launching pad for a sleigh pulled by eight inflated porpoises, a parasailing Santa and a 30-foot tall Christmas tree, among others.
The gifts for the kids grew more numerous as more people became involved. One family brought boxes of toothbrushes; a Canadian family started bringing cases of chewable vitamins each year. Some brought books; one first-timer bought every beach ball in Vallarta to give away.
Parents told us that these were the only gifts their kids had ever gotten. One little boy cried in frustration when confronted with the vast choice of toys. His older sister informed us that he'd never had the opportunity to choose anything - not food, not clothing, certainly not a toy.
The last year we participated, there was newspaper and television coverage. A busload of orphans was brought to the event by a local church. Another organization brought children who live in cardboard shacks at the city dump. That year, we passed a hat and collected enough money that shortly thereafter a toilet and shower facility was built at the dump.
So why toys for poor kids in Mexico? We could blame our Grapevine neighbors. But it just happened, and the "event" snowballed until it took on a life of its own. Although we've not been back for five years, friends tell us that the palapa-decorating and toy giveaway still occur each Christmas Day.
The day I was berated while sharing the story of the palapas, I learned that generosity wasn't limited to a sunny playa in Puerto Vallarta.
I was "rescued" that day by another acquaintance, who brought up the Hebrew concept of tikkun olam. In a nutshell, the idea is that each of us can fix only a small part of the world.
It reminded me of Loren Eiseley's starfish story. A gentleman walking along the beach comes upon a young boy who is picking up starfish that have been stranded by the outgoing tide and is tossing them back into the ocean. The man asks the boy what possible difference he can make, given the miles of beach and thousands of stranded starfish.
As he picks up another starfish and tosses it into the water, the boy says, "It makes a difference to this one."
None of us can fix all of the ills in the world. At this time of year, we can feel overwhelmed with so many solicitations for donations. Not even the philanthropy of Bill and Melinda Gates can feed every hungry child or clothe and shelter all those in need.
We might think that it's too late to contribute to a worthy cause, or that we can't make a difference. But we can.
Throw some change into that red kettle. Contact this paper's Goodfellow Fund (which has been clothing local children since 1912). Clean out your closets and take a sweater or coat to a local shelter, or bring some canned goods to the food bank.
Or if you're heading to Puerto Vallarta, stuff a teddy bear into your suitcase.
It might seem a small token. But to the person who receives it, it makes a difference.
Kevin Kalley is a member of the Star-Telegram Community Columnist Panel. |
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