Ranch ringers know how to sweeten the Salvation Army pot

She's got Santa's heart and Gen. George Patton's drive.

Spending two hours with Lakewood Ranch's Jane Imperiale — standing in front of a Publix on Lorraine Road and University Parkway while ringing Salvation Army bells — allowed me a small look at the person behind the Mrs. Claus suit.

The angel on her shoulder led her to organize a team of bell-ringers who could efficiently raise a bundle for those less fortunate. The tiny bit of mischievous devil in her leads to the twisted facial expressions when a shopper rushes through the door with a $1 bill in-hand, only to pass right by the Salvation Army's red pot.

I thought we were getting a great response from the morning shoppers.

"I think almost 50 percent of the people who have walked past have given us something this morning," I said to her, indicating I considered it a very impressive donation ratio.

She was having none of it.

"No, that's too high," she said of my estimate, with another unsatisfied expression on her face.

In her world, when it comes to altruism, nothing short of 100% is acceptable.

Of course, if that was the case in our world, her bell ringers wouldn't be needed and she would be out playing golf or pickleball on a beautiful Friday morning.

For now, those bell ringers, such as Bonnie Staley and Shannon Ford, who preceded us with the very early 8-10 a.m. shift, are important, especially for those who lost their homes and their jobs in the aftermath of the hurricanes.

Even so, I can't blame anyone for feeling they've been put through the donation wringer, being squeezed every which way they turn. I remember being exasperated myself a couple of years ago when a homeless man threw the dollar bill I gave him back in my face, telling me I should use it to make a payment on my BMW.

It was a man who stood on the same street corner every day, who got a dollar from me every time I passed. I admit that he had me questioning my habit of giving a little something to those in need who might or might not legitimately be in need. Many people tell me that is something I absolutely should not do and it causes more harm than good. Perhaps the answer is to give to a nonprofit like the Lakewood Ranch Community Foundation, which vets regional nonprofits to make sure the money goes where it has been promised.

In reality, I know in my heart that there is room in this world for both, and that's why we need more people like Imperiale, who doesn't mind reminding us that our small donations do make a difference, especially if they get a little bigger.

Her team made a $17,000 difference last year in Salvation Army donations, and with nine days left of bell ringing on Dec. 14, the haul this year was at $15,200 and rising. People in Florida are suffering, and Imperiale knows it. So do we.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

One gentleman watched us for a moment, as we swayed to a little Christmas music.

"This is your lucky day," he said.

He took out a $100 bill and put it into the slot in the pot, and headed off without another word. I hope his heart was soaring, because I know mine was.

The angel on Imperiale's shoulder had to be smiling.

I know it would be folly to attempt to determine who could afford a $100 donation, or a $50, or a $20, or a few coins. But I watched as one elderly woman went all through her handbag, turning it inside out, to find a four separate $1 bills. They all went into the pot. My heart soared again.

I was getting more out of the two hours than those who eventually will receive the donations.

Should I have felt guilty? I admit that it was out of character for me to be bell-ringing alongside Imperiale, at least in front of a grocery store. I have written columns in the past about planning escape routes from grocery stores that have exits that are road-blocked by those with good intentions and collection plates.

It's usually too in-your-face for me, as are the attempts of cashiers to solicit money while my wallet is open.

I imagine many others feel the same way, as I saw several shoppers during my shift make sharper cuts than running backs trying to evade a linebacker.

But even if the were at a safe distance, their car in sight, they weren't free of the "can't you help us" look from Imperiale, who knew more people shopping at that store than the lottery salesperson.

Many of her acquaintances who saw her did an about-face and came back to donate, probably because they wanted to avoid the disappointed look if they meet elsewhere in public. Others explained they would be back in the near future to give again.

A few used the "I don't have any cash," explanation.

Imperiale had them covered.

Now, on the sign and just to the right of that Salvation Army trademark is one of those QR Codes. It says "No cash? Scan here.

Got a credit card?

Normally, this kind of thing would make me uncomfortable, except I would say I always have felt differently when seeing the Salvation Army logo, or for that matter, the VFW's poppies. The longtime symbols have earned a trust from me. Other nonprofits hold the same trust for me, but they don't fundraise in such a manner.

I understand both sides of the donation pot. Being on the collection side with Imperiale, I was sure to wish happy holidays to those who gave, and those who don't want me in their face.

Most of the non-donors, when you wished them good tidings, flashed a smile. No donation, but good feelings all around.

My two hours were almost over, and I looked over at Mrs. Claus, who will have the sled at full throttle through Dec. 23. The previous record for collections in a day was $2,980. I don't know how much we collected in our two-hour shift, because Imperiale doesn't tally shift numbers since she doesn't want the bell ringers to become competitive.

Her first season of 2020 saw 16 ringers collect $3,709, so everything she is doing is paying off for those who need it.

Imperiale reminded me that all the money collected by the Salvation Army is distributed in the region and anyone who wants to get on the bell-ringing team for next year can send her an email at [email protected].

I was thankful to have spent time with such a thoughtful neighbor in Imperiale, and I left the Publix proud of our community's collective heart. I will leave you all with the same message as those who passed by us, donation or not.

Happy holidays!