Sallie the Balloon Girl

A word from Lil' O about Sallie:

Top three things about Sallie: 1) She's wonderfully, wildly creative 2) She's always up for an adventure 3) She's a fantastic friend. Add these to a a mile long list including beautiful, kind, sarcastic, hard working, smart, and you've got yourself a "Sallie". The way she decided to dispurse her $20 is a perfect expression of what I think is fabulous about her.

Sallie's Story:

I received Kalimba's invitation and immediately started brainstorming ways to spend my twenty bucks. I decided I would buy ten silver Mylar balloons to give to various people, with a note attached asking the recipient to pass their balloon to someone else, but not before donating whatever they could to someone in need. Basically, I wanted the balloons to exponentially expand the twenty dollars and reach as many people as possible in a concentrated amount of time. And I would even create a website so people could log their experiences. It was a little overzealous, to say the least.


Back home in Santa Monica, I thought the Promenade would be a great location for my experiment; it was December, people would be out shopping, feeling the holiday spirit. So I created the website (http://www.passtheballoon.com/),bought the balloons from a local party shop, and wrangled my hesitant husband to help distribute them.


It didn't go as well as I'd imagined. First of all, there was this really annoying guy following us around, saying "You can't tie balloons to posts or rails." Assuming he was some sort of Promenade security, we politely agreed we wouldn't and offered him a balloon. He backed away from it as if he saw Satan in its Mylar reflection.


And he wasn't the only one with that reaction. People were highly suspicious of the balloons, and when they saw there was a note attached, they practically ran away before we could say it's for charity. Sometimes we said "Want a balloon?" (sounds too pedophilic), "Human charity experiment!"(sounds strange enough that people would listen for two more seconds), and"Can I give you a balloon to give to someone else?" (worked best, though for some this demanded too much of a commitment).


We eventually found ten people to take the balloons, some excited, some hesitant, some confused. One of them was Kalimba who just happened to be on the Promenade, and at that point I was so frustrated by the lukewarm reception, I forced her to take one. I believe I said, "This is all your fault."


As we walked down the street, we saw balloons floating alongside people we hadn't given them to, so presumably we thought the experiment was going well, people must have been passing them to others. Then we saw some balloons had been abandoned, tied to bike racks and tree fences. Remembering the earlier warning (don't tie balloons to posts or rails) we rescued them.


That¹s when we met the Balloon Man, an elderly gentleman who works on the Promenade selling balloon animals. He asked if we had a permit. We, of course, didn't. He said he was going to call the police. We told him we were just giving the balloons away for a charity experiment. He told us that was illegal. We said ...What?


Then the annoying Promenade security guy marches up. I actually panic for a moment -- but then realize he's not security at all. He's the Balloon Man's overgrown presumably home-schooled son, and it turns out they're both just looking out for business by keeping competing balloons off their street.


A nearby petitioner/busker steps in and says to us You're trying to do something good for people who need it. That [balloon] man's just trying to make money. And your balloons are prettier. We gave him the last balloon and went home.


Over the next few days, I watched the website, waiting for the comments to pour in. They didn't. Days passed. Nothing. Nada. Until finally there was a comment! It was from Kalimba. Of course it was.


Finally realizing the experiment was a bust, I sat down to write this entry.I checked the website one last time, just to be sure, and there it was: the second comment. This time it wasn't from Kalimba, nor was it spam, as I worried it might be. It was from a complete stranger who gave 10 dollars to another stranger all because of a balloon. Balloon number six to be exact.

Ernessa and the Bubble Monkey

A word from Lil' O about Ernessa:

Ernessa T. Carter is shy and can be quiet with new people but has one o f the bawdiest laughs known to man and is a tornado on the dance floor. I have had the GREAT pleasure of working with her creatively. The woman is a genius with comedy and will break your heart with her dramatic writing. There's nobody like her on the planet and I'm lucky enough to call her my friend. Here's what she wrote on her blog about the experience~

Ernessa's Story:

As many of you know, I'm not a huge fan of kids. In fact, I could count on my hands the number of kids I actually like, and only one of the those fingers belong to some one who's not related to me through genes or marriage.So, when my lovely friend Kalimba sent me $20 in the mail and told me to do something "good" with it, I was just as surprised as the next person to find myself picking out toys for The L.A. Derby Dolls' Toy Drive.The thing is that I didn't get a lot of toys as a kid. I've spoken about my mother's general disdain of Christmas, and in this consumerist culture, I go back and forth about whether my husband and I should indulge our future children with non-educational toys.In fact, when I walked into the store, I planned on getting something educational.But then I saw the monkey that blew bubbles.
And though, I was a rather grown-up kid, even I would have freaked out if I got this. I mean the monkey blows bubbles out of it's mouth. C'mon... how magic is that?So here's me buying the monkey and a miniature pinball machine (the 20 in my hand is the one Kalimba sent)......


and then here's me being directed to the Toy Drive box by two Derby Dolls in short skirts.


Yes, I got a beer first. What? Yes, I realize that I'm pretty much all hair in these pictures.And yes, donating toys did somehow make me feel like a kid again .Thanks, Kalimba!To see the rest of Kalimba's giving experiment, go here, and you know, think about doing somethin' nice for somebody in 2008.Much love,etc

Greg, Shree, & Gregory

A word from Lil' Oprah about Greg:

Have you ever known a person who could make anyone laugh? That's Greg. He's rough and tumble, quick, witty, smart, kind and can light up a room like few people I've known. One of his lovliest qualities is that he is an AMAZING father as evidenced by his daughter who is a divine expression of all that is good in the world.




Greg's Story:

I’ve always had a good rapport with homeless people. When I lived in New York I knew all of the transients in my neighborhood and would often stand on the corner and chat it up with them. It never really bothered me that they were there and it certainly didn’t bother me that they were homeless. I used to give change and food almost daily. When I moved to LA and no longer had student loans, scholarship, and help from my folks, I began seeing homeless people a little different. Why help someone when I my self am struggling? I began to realize that we all have choices in life to make that will in the end, keep us afloat in the game of life, or that may cause us to sink to the depths of poverty. I have been poor, or “just getting by”, for about a decade. I’ve always managed to stay afloat. It is my belief that some folks just can’t play the game. Sure, there are those that are homeless because they have some kind of addiction, and there are those that have a genuine mental disorder that keeps them from being able to contribute to society in the norm. However, I think that there are many homeless people that simply can’t play the game. They don’t fit into the rules and parameters of society today. They lack the social skills or work ethic that is needed to keep a job, mix with the fray, pay bills and hold down a home.

The recipient of the 20$, I view as that type of man.

I have seen and known this man for about 8 years now. He spends most of his time sitting on one of the 3 benches on Melrose just south of LA City College. He is a big man that has a shopping cart with his belongings. He wears a lot of clothes no matter the time of year. He has beautiful, bright, dreamy eyes and he radiates kindness. It began as just saying hello to one another as I rode by on my bike or passed him on foot. We would chat from time to time but it was always quick. He is always alert, available, nice and polite. He has never seemed drunk or on any drugs, nor does he seem the least bit crazy. I can, however, see and understand why he is sitting there on the bench and not crammed into some cubicle. He just couldn’t hang.

When Shree, my angel-faced daughter, appeared on the scene in 2005, my encounters with him became more frequent. Shree and I are often on foot or cruising about on our bike. He immediately took to her and treated her with great kindness and love, and as Shree seems to do with everyone, she loved him right back. It is important to me that Shree makes her opinions on people based on who they are and not what they are, and so far, it seems to be working. We never knew his name, we just called him, “our friend”. When we set out looking for him yesterday, and I kept saying, “where’s our friend”...she knew exactly whom I was talking about from the get-go.

I’ve been a bit down in the dumps with money of late, so, when I received this challenge of giving 20 bucks to someone in need, it felt a little silly to me and even a bit wrong. I’m paying bills with credit cards and scrambling for change to buy a cup of coffee. I’ve had to borrow money for gas and diapers. I’ve had to buy a new car and it’s been nothing but trouble. I simply couldn’t think of anyone more “in need” than my self. As for our friend on Melrose, I felt like I wasn’t too far from being just like him...on the streets with a shopping cart. In the end, I had put it off long enough, and I simply needed to fulfill the obligation that I had committed to.

It was dark by the time we walked to our friend with Shree in the stroller. As we walked near to him he was staring with kindness at Shree without realizing that we were someone that he knows. We haven’t seen him for months. We stopped to say hello and he was radiant and as kind as ever. He kept asking about if Shree had a good Christmas. He spoke directly to her. She was carrying a pink flower that she had picked and was showing it to him. He reached out to grab it and it was so beautiful that I asked to take a photo and he said I could. We hung out for a while before he got up and began rummaging through his cart for a present for Shree. He said he had a little toy phone that he wanted to give her and as he searched, he commented on “all the junk” he had. It was getting late and we had to go but I couldn’t find a way to slip the 20$. I liked how we all just felt like friends that were on the same level, and I didn’t want to put him down with a hand out. Unable to find the phone, and desperately wanting to give Pod something, he pulled out his wallet and handed me a dollar bill for Shree. Hilarious...I’m struggling to find a way to give the man some money and he instead, gives us some. So there it is...as it stood, before even giving him the cash, I realized that he had more money than us. I had wanted to go by the Ice Cream shop on the way home to get Shree a treat and I didn’t even have enough money to buy a single scoop. I took the dollar with one agreement, that we do a trade...he agreed, I took the buck, he took the 20$. He didn’t seem surprised, overly grateful or at all taken back. He just took it with the same smile he always has and said, “okay.”

We took our dollar to “Scoops” and dropped it in the employees tip jar before getting a series of sample bites. I’m not sure where our friend gets his money and I really don’t care. I know he doesn’t have a lot of it and that he truly, just gets by. I was happy to give to him as he has given to me for years. There’s little genuine kindness around these parts, and he brings it everyday. I have a nice apartment, he has his bench...I work as often as I can, he watches the world go by...I have many friends, he is alone...we got the dollar, he got the 20$. I feel a kindred connection with this man. I could be like him, and if he could have made different choices to be living more like me. Or may be he couldn’t. Either way, we aren’t very different other than that his kindness seems to flow more readily than mine.

And after all these years, I finally got his name... “Gregory”