The View from Chuckonia: Heading to the Slammer

This morning, Joey and I visited the MDA Nashville office to drop off a couple of checks that I acquired over the weekend in support of my Lock-Up bail. While we were there, my “parole officer” introduced us to some of the Volunteer Recruiters whose job it is to reach out to folks seeking their involvement in the Lock-Up and other MDA events. Rachael asked me to tell them why, in 2009, I said “yes” when one of their past counterparts called me. I told them that, unfortunately, I did not recall who the person was on the other end of the phone, but that I was so glad they called me and that I said “yes” that day. I told them that the caller shared that someone had told the MDA that I would be a good person to contact to participate in the Lock-Up. I did not learn the identity of that “someone” at the time and still do not know who “turned me in” to be locked up. If they ever read this blog, let it stand as a big “thank you.” I’ve enjoyed every bit of my involvement. As for my reason for saying “yes” at the time, I simply shared that the person who called me conveyed a level of simplicity in the fundraising process. That was important, because there were few weeks left before the Lock-Up event when I was originally recruited. The easy usage of a personal bail-raising website with a link I could e-mail to others or post on Facebook appealed to me. I told the Volunteer Recruiters that my gears started turning during that initial call and that, while I didn’t execute them quickly enough, plans were cooking to fuel my first summer of MDA fundraising. It had also been two or three years since I had been involved in any significant philanthropic work, and I was missing that connection to a worthwhile cause. I had done some events and activities in support of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital from elementary school through college but hadn’t linked with it in any way since moving to Nashville. I rambled on a bit more about the experience I’d had each year, too. But Rachael’s question got me thinking more about the real origin of my involvement with the Muscular Dystrophy Association.

While I had planned to write some thoughts about this deeper origin today, it was ironic that Rachael would ask me to address “the beginning” this morning with folks who are working hard to bring more jailbirds like me into the fold. Now, I want to go a few steps beyond that first phone call and share what has drawn me closer to my experience as a jailbird. While it took me a few years to piece all of this together, it makes that initial “yes” and my pattern of the MDA automatically being part of my summer make so much sense.

The initial phone call that the MDA Nashville staff and I discussed this morning came in late May or early June of 2009. At that time, I had very recently seen my Granddaddy, Vernon Rhodes, alive for the last time (Mothers Day of 2009). We would lay him to rest a few days later in mid-May. While I was, for the most part, at peace with his departure from this life to one far better, there was a new hole in mine. Not consciously seeking to fill it, I think Granddaddy may have inspired me to do so anyway. I had never been involved with a lock-up-style fundraiser before. However, I had some vague understanding of it, because I knew one person who had – my Granddaddy. In the late 1990s, he participated in a lock-up fundraiser in my hometown of Lexington, Tennessee supporting St. Jude. I believe he did it a few times, but I distinctly remember one year (maybe ’97 or ’98) when I saw the fundraising letter that was sent to my parents on his behalf. I also remember seeing the picture of him “behind bars” and thinking that it was a fun set-up. Granddaddy and I talked about how it went in the days after, and I believe he raised several hundred dollars for St. Jude (another amazing cause) that day. Back then, such events didn’t see as much pre-emptive fundraising, and most folks sought donations in the last few days before the event. As a well-respected man in our community, leader in our church, and retired businessman with (as far as I ever knew) a flawless ethical reputation, he was a prime target for such a fundraiser. Call everyone you know and bring in as many dollars as you can. That’s the philosophy and practice behind such fundraisers. It works, too. You just need to have fun with it. My most distinct remembrance of his participation, though, is in the form of a mug they gave him filled with candy and a few other small items as a “thank you” for participating. I remember it well because he gave it to me (and maybe some of the candy). The mug became the pencil cup on my desk at my parents’ home and, even after moving before my senior year of high school, it still is and sits on that desk in Lexington today.

Though not a fundraiser for St. Jude, perhaps the Muscular Dystrophy Association was meant to offer me that opportunity at that time to give me an added ounce of linkage to my Granddaddy’s legacy. Beyond many other great attributes and lasting lessons he taught me, he was always a very giving and service-minded man. As a long-time member of the Lexington Lions’ Club, he enjoyed the fellowship of the club but took its service and charity work very seriously. He knew the mission and made it a priority in his involvement. That same example emerged in other charities with which he helped.

I wish my Granddaddy could laugh at me behind the MDA’s jail bars. I know he would get a kick out of it. But, I also think it was my turn to “take over the cell” after he left this world. While none of the Rhodes musical talent made it into my makeup, I treasure every connection to my Granddaddy that I find in myself. In this case, I think the connection found me. And, it all started with a friendly phone call from the MDA in the summer of 2009. I’ll go behind bars for as long as I can with the MDA, and I’ll always appreciate the inspiration of the man who was the first jailbird to me.