By volunteering at Crisis Nursery's holiday shop, several Uni students gave a special kind of gift this year

Micah Berman helps a young customer at the Crisis Nursery Children's Holiday Shop. (photos
on this page by Daisy Hassani) (click to enlarge)

By Daisy Hassani
Gargoyle assistant editor
Published Friday, Dec. 16, 2005, Gargoyle, news

IT'S 3:01 P.M. as I run briskly down the halls of Lincoln Square Mall on a Sunday afternoon. I'm running a bit late, so I pick up the pace. Finally, I see a sign: “Crisis Nursery Holiday Shop.” Only about two minutes late, I walk into the room.

The sight that greets me is a vast array of tables with small trinkets on them, each with a price tag. I see some Uni students and make my way over to them. I know that I'm here to help little kids shop for holiday gifts for their family members and friends. But beyond that, I'm pretty much lost.

The holiday shop (held this year on Dec. 10 and 11) is run annually by Crisis Nursery, an organization providing shelter for children in times of abuse or emergency.

Liz Reese at work in the holiday shop.
(click to enlarge)

Sophomore Micah Berman organized a group of six students, myself included, to volunteer this year. The other volunteers were juniors Amelia Breault, Krista Olson, and Liz Reese, and Konan exchange student Sayako Kanazumi.

I get in line to await the arrival of more kids who will need help shopping. The line shortens, and before I know it a little girl is looking up at me.

I soon discover her name is Ali, and she is shopping for her sister, parents, and friends. We decide to start with the less expensive items, and she picks out a penguin ornament, an American flag pin, and several other small gifts. She quickly stuffs one of the gifts, a small teddy bear for her sister, behind her back. I ask her why.

“My sister's right over there,” she whispers. “I can't let her see!”

Amelia is leading Ali's sister around to buy gifts a few feet away from us. Ali and I exchange a secretive glance, and we run to the cashier.

After helping Ali wrap her gifts, I encounter the first real challenge of the day. Enter Andrew, age 8, with a scowl on his face. He needs gifts for his parents and grandparents.

“What do you think we should get them?” I ask, as chipper as possible.

“I dunno,” he says flatly.

“Well, what are they interested in?” I ask, losing confidence. “I dunno,” he repeats.

After about 20 minutes of such small talk, we pay for the gifts he half-heartedly chose and go to the wrapping station. This is my last chance to cheer this kid up. I suggest that he decorate the gift bag a bit, and he grabs a pencil, muttering the entire time.

As he sketches a Santa hat, I become honestly impressed by his drawing skills. I ask if anyone taught him. He answers no, drawing more eagerly. He seems to be enjoying himself. As he finishes the last picture, I tell him what a good job he has done.

“Thanks,” he says, with a half-smile.

It's not much, but I feel like I've accomplished something.

As I walk out of the mall, I think about the kids I led through the shop. It's amazing how such a small act can make you feel like you've made a contribution to the community. I get into my car with the conviction that I will do this again next year.