When I was about 8 years old, a scrawny long haired child with knobby knees and big dreams, Hands Across America landed in central Illinois. If you don’t remember this event, it happened back in May of ‘86, naturally across America. People donated $10 (or more if they wanted) to stand and hold hands in a human chain for about 15 minutes. If you can believe it, the activity raised about $15 million for charity – specifically charities that focused on fighting hunger and poverty.
Normally, the idea of holding hands kind of freaks me out. I’m a strict no touch type of lady. Even back then, I wasn’t hip on holding hands (unless a cute boy was going to be involved). But this time was different because if we did it, we could get a cool shirt and meet Walter Payton.
I am a Bears fan, which is often a painful existence, but at that time I was fresh off the Bears January 26th 1986 Super Bowl XX win. You can bet that I was doing the Super Bowl shuffle in P.E. – and yes, I can still sing the song. When we heard that Walter Payton was going to come down to Champaign (which is 20 minutes away from my hometown) to do Hands Across America, well, that was it for me. I became a volunteer. I raised that $10, and I was able to go to Hands Across America with Walter Payton.
Did I meet him? Nope. Did I see him? Maybe? I did feel good about it though! Yet, this isn’t what started my involvement in volunteering. I can’t solely give credit to Walter Payton for that because as a child I watched my mom volunteer as well. It seems that we were always driving to Mahomet (her hometown) to help raise money for the Park District. I spent most of my summers at the Historic Village helping my mom and various other groups she volunteered with in Mahomet (my little hand prints can be seen on the sidewalk outside of the museum we helped revitalize).
Many of you know that we lived in Mansfield, Illinois, not Mahomet (which is about five minutes away from Mahomet). Why wouldn’t my mom volunteer there? Well, if you can believe it, she tried. She tried lots of times. My mom was the Postmaster in Mansfield and was quite beloved by many, but like many small towns are, Mansfield was clicky, she had her “place” as the Postmaster. She wasn’t from there.
Though mom was doing amazing things in Mahomet, a very large town at this point, she would much rather have been helping where we lived. Yet, every time she tried, she was told, “It’s okay, we have enough people” or on the off chance a group did allow her to join, she was silenced: “That won’t work here.”
Pretty soon, she quit trying, and just worked in Mahomet where she saw new groups forming, working together, not against one another. In 2019, Mahomet had a population of around 8,400, and it is still growing. When mom retired, she moved back to Mahomet. This wasn’t too much of a surprise to me. Why would she want to stay in a community that had, for 25 years, refused to allow her entrance? Mom realized that Mansfield didn’t want to change. It’s why its population is sinking every year, now under 800 people. Mahomet welcomes change, welcomes people, welcomes all volunteers. Mansfield didn’t do that, and it is slowly dying out.
Walter Payton said, “Do anything that might make the world a better place for someone,” and those are wise words.
Listen, it’s difficult to be a Bears fan. Just as it’s difficult to be new in a town, or to live in a town that isn’t really that inclusive to people who aren’t from here or don’t have a “name.” But if we remember the words of the late great Walter Payton, we can start being more inclusive: Welcoming others; Being open to new ideas. Not holding hands though - unless you have a cool t-shirt…then maybe.