December 15, 2004

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Palo Alto Online

Everyday saints

by Jocelyn Dong

A refrigerator stuffed with Thanksgiving leftovers, a request from a friend, and an unanswered telephone.

Those were the ordinary circumstances that prompted each of three local women to volunteer during the holidays one year.

Years later, service has become so entwined in their lives, they can barely remember the time before they volunteered.

Estelle Chalfin launched the Urban Ministry of Palo Alto Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless nearly 20 years ago and has been coordinating it ever since. Mildred Chin presides over the Christmas Bureau of Palo Alto, which annually distributes $100,000 to the needy. And Luanne Malkmus dropped in on the Ecumenical Hunger Program in East Palo Alto some 15 years and has never really left, serving on the board of directors and caring for the clients in whatever ways are needed.

Thousands of Bay Area residents turn out each the holiday season to lend a hand, spurred by nonprofit agencies' marketing campaigns and media pleas.

But there are volunteers and then there are volunteers.

While some of us show up to do our bit, others have gone before us, making sure we have a place to bring the toys, drop off the checks or dole out the hot meal.

They are the stalwarts, the ones who shoulder the burden when the turkeys haven't materialized on Thanksgiving week and it seems families in need won't have a merry Christmas.

Call it passion, good timing or some undeniable connection to the people they serve. Somehow, the holiday spirit has captivated these women, despite each having a family to tend to, groceries to shop for, a home to clean, and a life to lead.

As the staff member of one nonprofit commented about her faithful volunteer, "She doesn't have to do this, but she does."

Chalfin, Chin and Malkmus -- and others like them -- are not household names. They're just everyday saints who feel they have a little something to give and the heart to keep doing it year after year.

'Food is my life'

Whenever Estelle Chalfin looked into her refrigerator that weekend after Thanksgiving in 1985, she felt bothered.

Fifteen people had been invited for dinner; eight guests had showed. Now she had a fridge stuffed with leftovers that weren't being eaten.

Something, she thought, is wrong with this picture.

Fast forward a year. Chalfin, a professional caterer, owned Captain Cosmos, a restaurant on Lytton Avenue that eventually closed in 1998. Frequently, people who were homeless came in asking for food. For her business' sake, Chalfin had to say no.

"It used to hurt me. It was so painful I had to turn them away," said Chalfin, a mother of three who exudes a nurturing spirit.

But then, between the previous Thanksgiving's leftovers and the constant requests for food, something clicked. She went to Jim Burklo, who at the time operated the Urban Ministry out of a Winnebago, and asked if she could feed the homeless on Thanksgiving in her restaurant.

His response? "'Oh, can we ever!'" Chalfin recalled.

So she hand-wrote invitations to a 4 p.m. dinner and set about recruiting helpers. Burklo rounded up the guests and made sure they were clean, dressed and sober. About 35 hungry people showed up to the eatery.

Even today, Chalfin can barely contain her delight at the memory.

"It was wonderful !" she whispered.

"And when it was all over, I went into the kitchen and all my friends and family were doing a group hug and crying. And I said, 'This is Thanksgiving forever. This is it.' It was the most wonderful experience that we've all ever had," she said.

Sharing her culinary talents is perhaps the most natural expression of the giving spirit for a woman who declares, "Food is my life." She insists on a sit-down dinner where people are served -- no cafeteria line for Chalfin's guests. She wants it to feel like dinner with one's family, she said.

The homeless seem to appreciate not just the food but also the kindness. "Time after time I've had guests come and tell us, 'It was just like my mother's Thanksgiving. Thank you,' " Chalfin said. "(There are) people with tears in their eyes."

One year, two guests turned up just as the helpers were packing away all the leftovers. No matter -- Chalfin and her volunteers brought all the food back out and served the pair their Thanksgiving meal.

Over the years, much has changed about the Urban Ministry event. The crowd has blossomed to include as many as 350 guests. This year, Chalfin welcomed 250 people.

The dinner moved to All Saints' Episcopal Church in the early 1990s, when the restaurant could no longer fit the hundreds of guests who were showing up. Chalfin was grateful for the additional kitchen space as well.

"I was cooking these meals out of a little pizza oven," she said. "It was just impossible."

Then a few years ago, Chalfin decided she and her volunteers could no longer cook the whole meal. That's when Thanksgiving turned potluck.

Now volunteers bring a dish for 12, based on Chalfin's menu of turkey, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a green vegetable, pumpkin pie, and crescent rolls. Chalfin herself makes the gravy, the cranberry mold (her mother's recipe) and the vanilla whipped cream for the pie.

If there's one thing that Chalfin didn't expect back in that first year, it was how her modest Thanksgiving dinner would turn into a community project. At times, she said, she has more volunteers than guests. Each year, she closes the volunteer sign-ups the first week in November.

Chalfin theorizes the same satisfaction she gets in serving others has hooked community members as well.

"A lot of people need to feel 'in the family' over the holidays. There are a lot of single people who don't have a place to go. A lot of them are there working in the kitchen and serving the homeless and having the feeling of family. And it's as important for them as (it is for) the people who are eating. It's very heartwarming," she said.

Rewards aside, organizing the massive effort year in and year out takes its toll -- especially for a working woman. Ten years into the effort, Chalfin admitted, she considered not doing it anymore.

But all it took was one Thanksgiving away to change her mind. And she's been at it ever since.

"I would never abandon it. This is my baby. This will go on," she said. But when pressed on her future with the dinner, she allowed that she would love to hand it off to someone else.

"There are other things I'd like to be doing," said the 66-year-old Palo Alto resident and New Jersey native, who is president of the board of the Palo Alto Farmers' Market, a volunteer with the Stanford Hospital Partners in Caring program and a former San Mateo County Human Relations Commissioner.

One activity she'd like to try is visiting patients at Lucile Packard Children's Hospital with her dog, Charlie. She's also interested in becoming an advocate for the mentally ill.

As long as she's still organizing the dinner, though, Chalfin has one small request. This year, things got a little tense the week before Thanksgiving when only one turkey had been offered. In the end, enough turkeys did appear, as they always do.

"It just happens," she said with a smile. "I just wish they'd let me know a little earlier."

Doing 'small things' for others

This past weekend in Palo Alto, thousands of people received a surprise, courtesy of Mildred Chin and the dozen other members of the Christmas Bureau of Palo Alto.

The surprise? A small check -- a holiday bonus -- sent to those in need so they can afford a little extra something this season.

The 50-year-old Christmas Bureau gives away more than $100,000 every December, but the magnitude of the work doesn't faze Chin, who is president of the nonprofit. The genteel grandmother simply views her volunteer work as the business of "remembering people" at the holidays.

Under her leadership, however, the group has experienced tremendous growth. She was asked to join the group's board of directors in the mid-1990s. At that time, the nonprofit was raising about $27,000 from community donations and distributing the funds among about 350 individuals and families.

Chin became president in 1998, and after making a concerted effort to reach more donors and find more needy recipients, the group now sends out more than $100,000 in 1,200 checks to individuals and families. Chin, a self-effacing leader, readily gives credit to her fellow board members -- and the community at large -- for the growth.

If Estelle Chalfin, organizer of the Urban Ministry Thanksgiving dinner, uses her cooking talents to spread holiday cheer, Chin -- a retired supervisor of attendance accounting for the Palo Alto Unified School District -- taps her administrative skills.

"I really saw the need for it to be organized -- to be efficient and do things this way, and not sort of haphazard," she said. "We focused a lot on getting our records straight."

The board also grew, from about five members to 13. Her husband, Allan, is the treasurer. Through the generosity of community groups, the Christmas Bureau receives in-kind donations -- from a mailing address to free advertising to waived bank fees -- that have helped lower the bureau's overhead costs. Chin proudly pointed out that the all-volunteer group gives out 99 percent of the funds it takes in. Postage is the largest expense.

The thank-you letters the group receives from the recipients -- all secretly referred to the bureau by social-service agencies or the Palo Alto Unified School District -- speak of the checks' influence.

"Throughout the letters, what impresses me is that people are so surprised (that) 'Somebody is thinking of me,' " she said.

Frequently, the notes tell of the small joys that the checks make possible.

Chin happily rattled off a list of items: " 'I can buy my children some gifts and a Christmas tree'; 'I can get the Rollerblades my daughter's been asking for'; 'I can buy food and the medicine I need badly'; 'I can use it to help pay my utility bill.' "

One of her all-time favorites was the recipient who said he'd use the money to buy new wheels for his wheelchair -- and a book of poetry.

"This is the whole thing," Chin enthused. "People can use it for whatever's important for them. "

As a primarily administrative nonprofit, the work is not glamorous. No one dresses up as Santa Claus; there's no distribution of brightly wrapped gifts --just lists to alphabetize and cross-check, and checks to hand-write and mail. The record-keeping takes hours.

The bureau also arrange things like check-cashing privileges at a local bank, for recipients without bank accounts.

Despite the straightforwardness of the work, Chin's passionate is evident in how she talks about the responsibility.

"I always feel the challenge of raising the money. And I'm a nervous wreck by this time of year, I tell you," she said.

Chin works about 10 hours a week from October through December on the charity, "but she spends 24 hours a day worrying about it," her husband said.

She faces other emotional challenges, too, including calls from people in need.

"It's tough," Chin said of the phone calls. "I have to keep my common sense to the fore."

Because all of the recipients are referred to the bureau, there's nothing that Chin can do personally to help callers. In addition, the charter of the group is to help people within school district boundaries.

And that, Chin admitted, makes for difficult situations.

"I feel guilty saying, 'You don't live in Palo Alto so I can't help you,' " she said, knowing full well how that can come off sounding.

Nonetheless, she also knows that there are Palo Alto residents "who live on the edge," and Chin is devoted to helping them.

If there's an indication of how deeply Chin believes in the mission of the Christmas Bureau, it can be seen in the fact that she lets her own family get-togethers take a backseat to the needs of the bureau. Throughout the rest of the year, the petite, salt-and-pepper-haired woman spends a good deal of time with her children and their families, who live nearby.

"There's a lot of stuff I could be doing -- cleaning house and all that kind of thing -- but I really enjoy doing something for somebody else. Now that sounds so Pollyanna-ish, but it's true," said Chin, who plans to be a part of the Christmas Bureau for years to come. "Now that my family has grown and they don't need me as much ... I get a lot of satisfaction from doing some small things for other people. Volunteering is part of my life."

Doing whatever's needed

Luanne Malkmus was looking for a holiday project she could do with her high-school kids one year. Spotting an announcement about the Ecumenical Hunger Program's Adopt-a-Family project, Malkmus picked up the phone to call the agency.

No one answered.

Undeterred, she drove down to the Whiskey Gulch area of East Palo Alto for a visit. Walking in and finding no one answering the phones, the Woodside resident did what she thought was the most sensible thing: She sat down and started taking calls herself.

"I stayed there that whole day, and went back every day till Christmas," she recalled recently.

There was something about the nonprofit that grabbed Malkmus -- a need she felt she couldn't turn away from.

That one December day 15 years ago has led to something of a love affair between Malkmus and the East Palo Alto agency, its staff and clients. She has answered phones (a lack of Spanish fluency notwithstanding), driven a truck to pick up used refrigerators, taken kids back-to-school clothes shopping, welcomed children to her home to bake cookies and make flower arrangements, headed up walkathons, helped with golf tournaments, and, not least of all, served on the board of directors for a decade.

Most recently, she launched the Doll Project, a holiday fund raiser that raffles off custom-designed dolls. Over four years, the project has brought the agency about $50,000, in addition to bringing smiles to little girls' faces. Every year, at least one of the unique dolls is won by a client of the agency.

"Luanne is the volunteer every organization is looking for," said Nevida Butler, the executive director of the Ecumenical Hunger Program, which serves thousands of people each year through its many food and support programs. Malkmus will do anything that's needed, never thinking herself better than the clients, Butler added.

Butler recalled the year that Malkmus took some children shopping for back-to-school clothes. It turned out to be the children's first time buying new clothes, even though they were in elementary school.

Though Butler asked the children's mother to make sure the kids were clean for the shopping trip, her advice wasn't heeded. But did it matter to Malkmus?

No, Butler said. Others complained about the kids' odor, but to Malkmus, "they smelled like a rose."

Another time, she was assisting a family that was on government assistance. When the mother was too ill to pick up food stamps, Malkmus went and stood in line for her.

"These things she does, her main goal is to help -- not criticize, not belittle," said Butler. "She sees the need and takes it on. No matter what the challenge is."

Malkmus grew up in the San Joaquin valley. She lived on a cattle ranch in Salinas for 15 years, where she helped found a museum and joined the Junior League. Moving to Woodside, the mother of three children and two step-children continued her volunteer work with the Junior League, the PTA, the San Mateo County Hospital Foundation and a committee of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Volunteering with the Ecumenical Hunger Program has "made me more aware of people's problems ... particularly in East Palo Alto," Malkmus said.

Helping out isn't all rosy-eyed idealism, however.

As a board member, she enjoyed seeing how the whole organization operated, and yet, "the pressure is on the board to raise the money. (Some years) we were in desperate straits," she said.

That's why fund raisers like the Doll Project, which started as a brainstorm one wakeful night, are so important to Malkmus. The dolls are worth about $2,500 each, and every year, three are raffled off. The winners can choose the doll's ethnicity, clothing and other features. The names of agency's clients are put into the raffle along with ticket holders, and one client is guaranteed to win.

Butler remembered a Pacific Islander family whose daughter won a doll one year. Even the father was crying over the gift, she said.

Moments like those seem to be part of the draw for volunteers like Malkmus.

"Giving is such as wonderful feeling. Giving is the biggest gift you can give to yourself. You get this wonderful feeling like you've made a difference in somebody's life," she said.

This month, as in years past, Malkmus will be a fixture at the agency, helping with the holiday distribution of food and gifts, and adopting a family. Just like every year, she expects to have a hard time tearing herself away, she said.

"You say, 'I've got to leave by two o'clock.' And by six o'clock, you'll be out of there," Malkmus said.

She hopes to see community members volunteer not just at the holiday season, but also all year round.

"Once people get involved, they can see how this can be even more rewarding," she said.

Of all people, Malkmus would know.

Senior Staff Writer Jocelyn Dong can be reached at jdong@paweekly.com.

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