I'm not good at keeping secrets.

Perception is a funny thing. For some people it is 'their truth.' And I guess that's where we all fall into the trap of making assumptions based on our perceptions. I would like to share a truth with you all now.  This is not about me but about someone who swore me to secrecy. And I kept his secret until his death a little over a year ago.

The story starts like this. Following Hurricane Katrina, Jenny Reynolds and I opened the Hurricane Relief Center in the old WalMart building in Minden.  As overseers of the donations, we knew first hand who was contributing to the relief center. Many donors did not request to remain anonymous and not that we required it or that it made their generosity any less appreciative. But I found it strange that most people thought that the majority of the donations, the sizable ones anyway, 'came from the well-to-do white folks in town.' And some people were pretty vocal about it, too. 

We operated the relief center for three months. Right up to Christmas. While we were fortunate to have received some donations from a very generous community, the evacuees still had to pick from what was there. And sometimes it didn't mean that we had something for everyone. 

Just a few weeks before Christmas, a gentleman walked into the Relief Center and asked if we could come out to the car.  I went to see what was up. There was another man sitting in the back seat of the car with the door open. He had one leg out and turned around as if to get out but remained seated. I approached the car and saw who it was. I shook his hand and he asked me if I had time to talk to him for a minute. 

He told me he knew that Jenny and I had kept up with the evacuees that remained in town. He asked what that number was. I told him that we knew of 30 families that were still in Minden following Katrina.  With his checkbook in hand, he began to write. And while he was writing he told me that he appreciated everything we were doing for the evacuees. He went on to say 'but  they deserved to be able to go the store and buy their family presents.'  He said he appreciated what we were doing here but that it just wasn't the same as being able to go out and buy it for yourself.  He asked if we could process his check and see to it that each family receive his kind donation. 

As he finished writing his check. He tore it out of his checkbook and handed it me with one condition he said." You can't tell anyone where this came from. No one is to know that I did this. Not the evacuees. Not the public. Not anyone. Do you understand? "   "Yes, sir," I said. He folded the check in two,handed it to me and said "God Bless You." He sat back in his seat, shut the door and drove away. 

The man was Rev. B. F. Martin and the check was for $30,000. We saw to it that each family received a $1,000 check to spend as they saw fit. We never told them who the donor was.

 Rev. B.F. Martin was Santa Claus for them that year. And he was our hero.  He had made the single largest contribution ever to our relief effort. And we kept it a secret. Until today! 

I'm not good at keeping secrets. And this one was meant to be shared.