Why I Love Rejection!!

Early days biking through Brooklyn!

A random thought occurred to me today, and I figured it was a good way to delve into my exciting young years living in New York, but to also tell you more about the kind of person I try to be, and why my mission with Team Fox for Parkinson's is so important. It starts here and now talking to prospective big sponsors on the phone, and ends 14 years ago with a homeless man on the subway from Brooklyn.

I have finally started getting responses from many fantastic companies and media outlets who are sadly unable to assist me in my campaign, but always and genuinely they wish me and my father the best of luck. I've mentioned this to friends over the last few days and they always want to know why I'm actually smiling about getting rejections. I explain to them it's better than being ignored outright, and then I tell them my story with Sonny Payne.

 

My old home away from home

When I moved up to Brooklyn, after college, I landed an amazing job as an Art Director with a stellar printing company, Alpine Creative Group. So every day I rode the F Train from Parkslope, in Brooklyn to 26^th and 6^th in the city. The subway system of New York is a myriad of cultures and worlds colliding. I always thought that people of my caste kind of ruled the train system cause we were the defacto proletariat. Always there, always flexible to the changes in the system, and never failing to attend. There were others as well, the random beauty who got on one stop after me; I called her Hat Girl cause she was always immaculately dressed in moderate business attire, but always had an odd hat, her favorite was a blue riders helmet that reminded me of the tour guides at Disney. Then there was a guy that rode North from the Village. I called him Eddie Vedder cause he always had perfect hipster long hair and would listen to his Walkman for his two stops.

Then there was Sonny Payne. Sonny was homeless, 65 or 70 years old, a beard that was ragged but neatly close-cut and gray at the ends, and he shouldered a TMNT backpack. Many other articles are out there about chats with this institution of the F Train, about his delivery of his polished line for food or change, but I want to share a conversation I had with him one day. It started with a couple dozen sandwiches.

I started packing an extra pb&j for Sonny after a few months of seeing him travel the cars on my trip toward the city. He was always gentle, thankful and would always bless you after a donation, and you knew he meant it from his heart. So every morning if I saw him, I'd give him my extra sandwich, he would say “bless you Sir.” and we would go our separate ways. Then one day, there was a wretched storm blowing, and in the city, people scatter when the skies open up with what I call “Florida Fury.” Back home, every afternoon the heavens descended, but this day the subway was light on commuters; I pretty much had a car to myself. Sonny hopped on from the next car like clockwork, and I offered him my sandwich as usual, then something amazing happened, he sat down across from me as he thanked me and began to tear into the offering. I'd never seen him actually eat before. I offered him my bottle of water too; he wanted to turn it away, but slowly took it as well. I noted to him that he may be the driest New Yorker around today. He laughed a bit, and said that 'it sure was a mess up there alright.'

By the time we approached the next station Sonny was back on his feet, tucking away half the sandwich in his turtle backpack, and he thanked me again. I told him I wished I could do more. He said that I was better than a lot of people, most people just ignore him. He said that was the worst cause eventually you start to believe you're invisible, and it hurts. He thanked me again for just looking him in the eye and reminding him he was a real person.

 

That's how charity fundraising can feel some days. I've sent out dozens of letters, and today I got my first phone call from a real living person. Even though it may end in rejection, at least I know my cause is not invisible, and neither are those I fight for.

So please consider this as you see the link below, or as you receive my letters or email.

Thank you!

 

www2.michaeljfox.org/goto/RunningArts

 

And yes when I get up to the city for the Marathon, I'm bringing a big bag of sandwiches.