Wheeling My Way To Disney World

  I've only ever participated in one school fundraiser. When I was fifteen, my choir teacher announced that we were going to raise money to go to Disney World the next year. The teacher planned three community ticketed events, including a bake sale, but first she said we'd have a catalogue fundraiser. I was so excited, because I'd always wanted to go to Disney World. It was a dream come true for me and the other girls in my class.

"We are also having a contest and the one who raises enough money at the end of the year will win free passes to Six Flags," our teacher announced.

  I took the fundraising packet home that evening and sat at the table looking through the catalogue. My sister looked with me.

"How are you going to raise enough money to go to Disney World?" she asked.

"If the class sells enough items to meet half of the cost, the school is going to pay the other half," I told her. "And, if I make enough sales on my own, I'll win free passes to Six Flags."

"Can I go?" my sister asked.

"I dunno about Disney World, but if you help me sell this stuff I'll definitely take you to San Antonio," I told her.

"Okay," she agreed.

  The next morning, with my electric wheelchair fully charged, my sister and I set out to make the sales. My sister stood on the back of the wheelchair while I drove us around the neighborhood. Our first stop was at the home of an older woman who lived across the street a few houses adjacent to us.

  We often saw her in the yard working on her flower bed and we always said hello. I figured that she would be open to buying some of the decorative trinkets in the catalogue. I'd never sold anything before and didn't know anything about having a good sales pitch. I was in for an interesting lesson.

"Good morning ma'am," I said when she answered the door.

"Hello girls," the lady beamed.

"I'm selling stuff to raise money at school," I said as polite as pudding, "would you like to buy anything?"

"Oh what are you raising money for?" she asked.

"She's going to Disney World with her class," my sister answered for me.

"How exciting," the lady replied. "I'm in the middle of baking. Will you come in and I'll look at the catalogue." she said.

  I could smell the evidence of baking cookies wafting toward us, so I motioned to my sister and we entered. The woman had a beautiful home with plush furniture and shelves full of trinkets - mostly ceramic cats. We sat in the bright, sunlit dining room at a wooden table with a white lace table cloth.

"I was baking these for my grandkids. They'll be here later today, but you girls can have a couple," she offered.

"Thank you," we said, and she put a few on a small plate.

  I pulled the catalogue from my backpack and sat it on the table. The woman sat down and began thumbing through the pages while my sister and I nibbled on the warm cookies.

"My granddaughter had one of these last year," the lady said to me. "I got some really nice scented candles," she motioned to the bar that had a few mason jars with candles in them.

  We spent the next four hours at her house listening to stories of her grandkids, her life in Germany and her love of cats. Gratefully, she bought five items and invited us to stop by again. By the time we left, it was well into the afternoon.

"Wow," I said to my sister as we headed down the street, "she was a sweet lady, but we have to be careful. No more going into people's homes. We'll never get anything sold if we sit around listening to everyone's life story."

  The rest of the day, my sister and I went around the neighborhood knocking on doors and hoping that nobody else would ask us to come in. Fortunately they didn't, but unfortunately not many people were as kind as the old woman had been. There were a few that said no almost as soon as we made our pitch and one even yelled at us in spanish before shutting the door in our faces.

"How many sales have we made today?" I asked my sister, as evening approached.

"Twelve," she replied, checking the list.

"Ready to do this again tomorrow?" I asked.

"If it wasn't for your wheelchair, I'd say no," she laughed.

"Honestly, if it wasn't for my wheelchair I'd say no too. I feel bad for my classmates who are doing this on foot."

  By the end of the weekend, we sold 42 items. I was sure I'd won the trip to San Antonio. However, when I got to class on Monday, I was shocked to discover that many of my classmates had sold well over forty-two products. Some had as many as 100 on their list.

"How did you sell that many? I went around the neighborhood in my wheelchair and it wore me out," I asked.

"I got my mom to take the catalogue to work and her co-workers bought most of it," one friend bragged.

"My grandma loves this kind of stuff and the ladies in her church group do too," another boasted.

  I felt like a goober. I never thought to enlist my parent's help. We all turned in our packets. The rest of the semester was fun. I sang in a talent show where we collected raffle tickets and sold snacks. We held a Disney themed concert and sang at the local community center, where we were given donations for our trip. At the end of the semester our teacher presented one of my friends with the tickets to Six Flags.

"And great news ladies," she said, "we've reached our intended goal so that means..."

"WE'RE GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!" we all screamed with excitement.

  My spirit soared. So what if I wasn't going to San Antonio. Our class would be singing for Mickey and I would finally visit the most magical place on earth. Nothing could take that away...

  And then my family moved.