Get a piece of happiness
If there's a more talented shakedown artist in this city than Jake Kennedy, he's sitting behind bars.
You don't know Jake, or maybe you do. If you're a homeless mother facing the brutality of another December without money for presents that your kids so desperately want or winter gloves they so desperately need, then Kennedy might be your best friend on the planet.
He's a physical therapist by profession. Well-heeled men and women come hobbling up the stairs to his Downtown Crossing office, entering his world of barely controlled chaos. There are days when he's got patients lying on beds, on weight-lifting benches, and in whirlpools, every one of them the subjects of his pleas and taunts.
But that's just his job. His passion is an organization he founded known as Christmas in the City, a charity unlike any other in Boston.
Put it in this way: The state attorney general issued a report recently saying that telemarketers soliciting for Massachusetts charities pocketed an average of 71 cents on the dollar. Christmas in the City is the opposite.
The organization has no overhead costs. It has no executive director, no paid staff, no direct mail companies, no dinner for contributors in a downtown hotel.
What they have is Jake Kennedy, along with his wife, Sparky, shaking down anyone in their path. They shake down the Red Sox, the New England Aquarium, the Franklin Park Zoo, the Children's Museum, the Museum of Science,
Truth is, they never have to shake all that hard, especially with people who have seen their work. The Kennedys aren't trying to change the world with Christmas in the City, but merely seeking to give homeless mothers and their children a day to call their own. And fully 100 percent of the money raised goes toward the cause.
So one December Sunday, they send a fleet of more than 90 buses to shelters across the region to gather mothers and kids. They chauffeur them to a festive exhibition hall, where costumed characters shout encouragement as the guests are ushered in. They have choirs singing carols, magicians, sketch artists, hair stylists cutting for free. They serve turkey, pizza, and chicken fingers.
Later, snow falls from the ceiling, and Santa Claus beckons the children into a cavernous room with a petting zoo, amusement park rides, firetrucks, and, as Jake Kennedy describes it, ''every form of moon walk known to man." Kids sit with Santas concealed behind curtains.
The children later receive bags stuffed with scarves, warm socks, mittens, books, games, and stuffed animals. Finally, they are each given a personalized, wrapped gift, something their mothers told the charity that the kids had wished for on their Christmas list.
''For those six hours, we were human beings," recalled Melinda Brown, who attended the festivities two years ago when she was going through a tough stretch, but now has a home, a full-time job, and a husband. ''We weren't a sore on society, the rejects. People were compassionate to us, not because they had to be, but because they wanted to be."
She remembers especially the shocked look on her nearly 4-year-old daughter's face when she opened a Leapster that she had asked for.
Now the point. This year, like every year, Jake is short on time and gifts because of his uncanny inability to say no.
The event is Sunday. He expects 2,500 homeless kids to arrive at the hall, and he has another 400 homeless or hard-luck families he plans to deliver gifts to before Christmas. Right now, he's about 1,000 presents shy. He needs help fast.
If you'd like to buy a personalized gift for a homeless kid, call Kennedy's business at 617-542-6611 and find out how. Or drop a toy or some money off at his office at 45 Franklin St.
It might be the happiest you've felt all season.
Brian McGrory is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at mcgrory@globe.com.
