This is a copy of a direct mail fundraising letter I wrote, asking people to "sponsor" me as a member of The Home for Little Wanderers Boston Marathon team. This simple, homespun appeal brought in 2,907.00 in donations with a response rate of 50% — and won two awards at the 2003 NEDMA Awards for Creative Excellence.

November 23, 2001

Dear Bob and Barbara,

I don't know about you, but ever since September 11, I've found myself preoccupied.

I can't say I knew any of the victims of the terrorist attacks, but I can't stop thinking about the people who lost their lives on that fateful day. For them, I'm so sorry. For America, I'm so concerned.

I'm sure I'll get over it, but only God knows when. So much has changed since the day four planes fell from the sky. September 11 changed everything from how I feel about flying to how I feel when I'm lying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep at night, trying to think about something--anything!--that'll help me relax.

Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I can't stop wondering what's next.

But I will say the events of that wicked day also told me how important it is to cherish the time I spend with my friends and family--and to lend a helping hand to colleagues, neighbors and even complete strangers.

I can't do much about terrorism, but I can make a difference in the lives of those around me. And so can you. Let me explain.

You see, when I'm not working or hanging out with my wife and kids, I'm usually out jogging, training for the next big race. And the next few months will be no different. Only this winter, I'll be training for the 106th Boston Marathon, and the challenge won't be just to finish this 26.2-mile jaunt, but to raise 2,500.00 for The Home for Little Wanderers, New England's largest, private, nonprofit child and family services agency.

We all have a lot on our minds at this time of year, especially with what's going on in the world, but I'm hoping you can take a few minutes now to sponsor my marathon run. I've already received a check for 15.00, and another one for 40.00 but whatever you can afford will be appreciated, believe me.

Let's face it, September 11 has left many of us asking what we can do to help. I know I'm not talking about Ground Zero, but I do believe that taking care of others--anybody who needs us, anywhere--is an expression of patriotism. If you ask me, helping to create a brighter future for our children--every boy and girl--is helping to strengthen our national character.

If you haven't heard of The Home for Little Wanderers, I'd be surprised. It's been around since 1799, helping children who have suffered abuse, abandonment, loneliness and despair. Many of the boys and girls served by The Home have serious emotional and behavioral issues to overcome before they can get around to leading healthy, productive lives.

Of course, compared to what these kids have been through, my childhood was a fairy tale. I had it all. Summer camp. Little League. Swimming lessons. Lots of toys. Love, laughter, you name it. Nothing could have been better. And today, thank God, I'm able to give my own children--Scotty, Ben, David and Sophie--everything they need to reach their full potential.

But some kids aren't so fortunate. They need nurturing, a sense of security, self-esteem, hope--the things that dreams are made of, the things The Home can offer them.

At The Home for Little Wanderers, more than 1,200 dedicated employees in more than 30 programs care for over 11,000 children and families annually. Through an integrated system of prevention, advocacy, research and direct care services, The Home's mission is to ensure the healthy development of children at risk.

So please join me in my endeavor to make a difference in the lives of at least a few boys and girls, children I may have never met, but children I know will be grateful for our support. Please give as much as you can possibly can today. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

Sincerely,

Bob Cargill

P.S. Please make your check payable to The Home for Little Wanderers and return it--along with the Sponsorship Form below--in the enclosed pre-addressed envelope (postage is already paid) before February 1, 2002. If you prefer, you may charge your donation to your credit card. The Home will provide you with tax information upon receipt of your donation. Thanks again.

P.P.S. If you would like to learn more about The Home for Little Wanderers, please don't hesitate to visit them on the Web at www.thehome.org.

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A copy of something I wrote for "Thinking Out Loud," my column that appears occasionally in The Sudbury Town Crier, a weekly newspaper published by Community Newspaper Company.

Just Happy To Be Playing Softball
By Bob Cargill

It was a damp, chilly Friday night in late April, and darkness had just fallen over the sleepy town of Sudbury. But under a bright, full moon, in front of a crowd of proud, adoring fans, ten men took the field at Featherland Park, ten men who had never played a softball game together, but ten men who constituted a team nonetheless.

And that in and of itself was a big victory.

Just ask Bob O'Brien, the mastermind of this operation. After all, it was his idea in the first place to put together a softball team comprised of his friends in the close-knit neighborhood of Pine Lakes.

By strolling around the block with his wife, Joy, and his two young children, Millie and Gavin, he had gotten to know his neighbors well enough to know there was plenty of interest in playing ball.

"From the get-go, I knew I had a commitment from enough of them to field a team," he said. "But when the league actually voted us in, I felt lucky that we were able to join."

They are raw, enthusiastic rookies in a league full of laid-back veterans. They are the new kids on the block, scrappy and frankly, a little scraggly. They are a motley crew of age 30-something ballplayers who have officially--and rather unpretentiously, might I add--declared themselves the Pine Nuts. And they have almost as much fun playing the game as their fans have watching them.

Indeed, the Nuts put on quite a show. At the plate, they're always a serious threat, at both ends of the order, capable of spraying the ball to all corners of the field.

And on the base paths, they're inclined to run willy-nilly, stretching singles into extra bases, and not hesitant to slide head-first-risking injuries, dirtying their uniforms--whether it's a close call or not.

Let's just say they leave it all on the field.

All they're missing is that one hulking, fearsome slugger, an intimidator at the plate, although several of them can certainly give the ball a mighty long ride, including the leader of this pack, O'Brien, who played his share of competitive sports back in the day.

But what little the Nuts are lacking in ability, they certainly make up for in vim and vigor--not to mention fan support.

"Hey number 12, you're the cutest," shouted Marybeth Madigan, displaying her affection for her husband, outfielder Jim Madigan, as he anxiously awaited his turn at bat during a recent game.

Marybeth isn't shy, to say the least. A part-time attorney and mother of two boys, she could easily pass for a stand-up comic. In between innings, she keeps the spectators in stitches, entertaining them with her quick wit, off-color humor, barbs and cheers.

"We're girlie girls," she joked about her friends in the stands, most, if not all, wives of the players. And let me tell you, these ladies have a rollicking good time, manufacturing a raucous, tailgating atmosphere behind the Nuts' bench-food and adult beverages included--giving their husbands the equivalent of a home-field advantage.

And that's how it is for the pride of Pine Lakes. Win or lose, the Pine Nuts are just happy they are playing softball. And so are their fans.

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Editor's Note: Members of the Pine Nuts, who won their first game of the season, 20-7, include Bob O'Brien, Ed Lynch, Karl Ginand, Jim Madigan, Steve Guerra, Allen Palmer, Kevin Klapper, Joe Gibowicz, Jimmy Kelly, Kevin Curtis, Chip Stahl, Jimmy Bursma, Frank O'Brien, Joe Alarie, Rob Mossi, Jim Rottman and Fran Madigan.

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Another column of mine that recently appeared in The Sudbury Town Crier.

Stop in the Name of Love for Pine Lakes
By Bob Cargill

If you think there are only two kinds of people who run stop signs--those who are too young to know better and those who have a problem with their eyesight--think again.

There's another category of offenders, and these guys are the most difficult to understand--those who think they're above the law.

I ought to know. I was one of the Pine Lakes residents who pleaded with the town several years ago to do something--anything!--about the cars and trucks that barrel through the many dangerous four-way intersections in our neighborhood. This is a densely populated section of town, teeming with young children, and we felt strongly that their precious lives were in jeopardy as long as irresponsible drivers were allowed to make up the rules of the road as they go.

We saw boys and girls on bikes and skateboards. We saw young mothers pushing newborns in strollers. We saw elderly couples walking arm in arm. We saw a serious accident waiting to happen.

Fortunately, we didn't have to wait that long, and after about a year's worth of town meetings, the powers-that-be agreed to erect stop signs at three of the busiest intersections in the neighborhood, including the one right in front of my house.

Hallelujah!

But that was then. Today, what seemed like a good solution at the time is more like a safety net with holes in it. Yup, sorry to say. While most law-abiding citizens drive slower and comply with the new stop signs, more than a few self-centered renegades think the signs don't apply to them and blow right through them--anyone in their way be damned.

Of course, the first reaction of some people will be to say, "I told you so"--that putting up a sign is one thing, actually getting people to comply with a sign is another--but I say that still doesn't make it right. If even just one driver is taking the law into his or her own hands and putting innocent bystanders at risk, I would think the town would want to know about it--and to do something about it.

Understand, we're not talking about someone who might occasionally exert a heavy foot on the open highway. Otherwise (in the spirit of full disclosure), I'd be a hypocrite. We're talking about habitual offenders who could care less about the speed limit, people with the gall to run stop signs at will in a sleepy, little neighborhood where young families are packed in like sardines in a can.

These folks may not need glasses, but their short-sightedness could kill someone.

That said, the last thing I want to do is add fuel to the fire. I'm a peaceful man, a God-fearing, "love thy neighbor" type of guy who acts in the best interest of his family and friends. I know how fortunate we are to live in such a close-knit neighborhood, a place where (as I wrote in this newspaper previously) June and Ward Cleaver would have had a home if they had lived in Sudbury. Most of us around here actually hang out together, watch out for one another--and, admittedly, holler in vain at those in our midst who choose to drive recklessly.

But that doesn't mean we want to be in the business of policing our own neighborhood, certainly not to the extent of writing down license plate numbers and dropping dimes on the culprits. In my opinion, anything resembling a vigilance committee will only make matters worse. Those who don't like being told what to do will flaunt their disobedience and burn rubber just to spite us. And before long, we'll have neighborhood unrest--can you say retribution?--instead of the neighborhood camaraderie that is the hallmark of Pine Lakes.

All we want is compliance with the stop signs and speed limits in our neighborhood so that none of us ever has to bear witness to a horrible, senseless tragedy.

Hopefully, the town will step in on our behalf. But in the meantime, if you're driving through Pine Lakes, please step on the brakes at each intersection and exercise caution behind the wheel. Don't risk hurting somebody--anybody!--in the name of selfishness and contempt.

It's a cold, cruel world out there. The least we can do is keep it a warm, safe community in here.

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And another...

If you lived in Pine Lakes...
by Bob Cargill

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Okay, I stole that line from Mr. Rogers, but if you lived in Pine Lakes, you would certainly understand. A stroll through our neighborhood is like a step back in time, including white picket fences, little pink houses, stay-at-home moms pushing newborns in strollers and toddlers on tricycles enjoying life as they know it.

If you've never heard of Pine Lakes, you're probably new to town. History's not my thing, but people tell me this neighborhood has been around a long time. Nestled in a heavily wooded area partially surrounded by Willis and Crystal Lakes, it was founded in the mid-1920's as a subdivision made up of mostly small summer cottages.

Today, now that Sudbury has evolved into such a desirable, residential epicenter for the nouveau riche--with the median selling price of a home in the 500,000 ballpark--the modest size of even the newest construction in Pine Lakes certainly betrays the neighborhood's humble beginnings.

No, you won't mistake Pine Lakes for some exclusive enclave. You won't see any "mansionization" on my block. By Sudbury standards, this neighborhood is unequivocally middle class. Most of us around here even mow our own lawns.

Pine Lakes is a densely populated neighborhood. You'd be hard-pressed to find a house with a garage, never mind one with a long, winding circular driveway or other such sign of excess acreage. What we lack for in square feet per lot, however, we more than make up for in good neighborliness.

This is the neighborhood where June and Ward Cleaver would have a house if they had lived in Sudbury. This is a close-knit community, a place where everybody knows your name. This is Pleasantville. This is Mayberry R.F.D.This is all of the above, all rolled into one.

On a nice, warm day, Pine Lakes is alive with the sight and sound of children riding bikes up and down the street, young couples strolling hand-in-hand, proud homeowners doing yard work, next-door neighbors gossiping, empty nesters walking their dogs, joggers getting their daily exercise.

There may not be much privacy in Pine Lakes, but my wife, Barbara, says she likes the fact that we live in such close proximity to our neighbors. It's comforting for her to see so-and-so's car in the driveway or lights on at night. When someone new moves into the neighborhood, she's the first one to introduce herself. One big, happy family, that's what Pine Lakes is to her.

Of course, my wife being the social butterfly she is may have something to do with the fact that we've hosted the neighborhood block party the past two years. About 150 people show up for this shindig, so this isn't something you can prepare for at the last minute. It's pot luck, so that makes hosting it a little easier, but there's still a small army to entertain.

Traditionally, the highlight is the children's bike decoration contest and parade, which is almost too cute to believe. Last year, we debuted a fun run for the kids, which was also a big hit.

Another event that gets everyone rather giddy is Halloween. Go ahead! Ask around. The word is definitely out. The savviest trick-or-treaters in town--and their parents--know Pine Lakes is especially ripe for the pickin'. I can't tell you how many people I know who choose to drop their kids off in our neighborhood on the night of October 31. Of course, it doesn't hurt that our streets are so hospitable to pedestrians.

Indeed, you may remember that we're the neighborhood that petitioned the town a couple of years ago for stop signs. Our argument was that with so many little ones inhabiting Pine Lakes, and with so many dangerous intersections, that an accident was inevitable.

Well, it took a while, but the town finally agreed with us and erected seven stop signs. I must say that the signs have made a big difference. Today,most people drive slower--and more cautiously--through our neighborhood.They have become aware of just how many young children we count among our population, and how much we frown upon those who drive recklessly.

Unfortunately, there are still a few shameless drivers who blow through each intersection. But for the most part, our children are a lot safer, thanks in large part to the stop signs, and to the town for putting them up.

Of course, we should have asked the town for one more sign. No, not another stop sign. This one's really a no-brainer.

As you drive down Hudson Road, and you turn into our neighborhood, the first thing you should see is a sign that says "If you lived here, you'd be home now." Because for those of us who do reside in Pine Lakes, this isn't just another place to live. This really is home.

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And another...

A Day in the Life of a Six-Year-Old Skateboarder
by Bob Cargill

You wake up in the morning and all you can see until you finish rubbing the sleep from your eyes are the posters of skateboarding heroes that hang from your bedroom walls.

Your dad grew up worshipping the likes of Bobby Orr, Carl Yastrezemski and Larry Bird, but you could care less about those boring old-timers. To you and millions of other young dudes from San Diego to Sudbury, skateboarding is not just the fastest growing sport in America. It's a means of expression, an irresistible subculture, a religious experience embodied by the legendary Tony Hawk, whose reputation as the greatest skateboarder in history has grown to almost mythic proportions.

It's still bright and early, a couple of hours before the bus comes for school, and before anyone else in your family has even gotten out of bed. Like a mouse under the cover of darkness, you scurry downstairs to the playroom, where you hoard all of your Nintendo 64 games, including the one named after the aforementioned Hawk, which you play until your fingers feel like they're going to fall off.

You're only six-years-old, but you want to be a pro skater when you grow up, and the only way that dream will come true is to be a sponge now. So you immerse yourself in as many skateboarding magazines, books and videos that your parents will shell out for, fantasizing about your future, staring at pictures of gravity-defying feats, studying how others perform tricks called kick-flips, board slides, drop-ins and nose grinds.

But you can't forget about school. Your first grade education at the Peter Noyes School comes first. You scoff down the bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch your mom has put in front of you, making sure not to spill any milk on your new, calf-length baggy shorts, an article of clothing that may as well be mandatory in today's skater boy circles. Then, after you brush your teeth and put a little dab of gel in your hair, it's a mad dash to the bus stop, your board under your feet.

You discovered skateboarding on your own. Your dad played almost every sport as a child, but not this one. He taught you and your brother, Ben, how to catch a ball and ride a bike, but he can't take any credit for your success as the "little engine that could" among the town's skaters. You've done it all by yourself. You're coordinated, daring and determined enough to excel in a sport that tests even the hardiest young athletes, but one that more kids between the ages of six and 17 participate in today than baseball.

Yup. You've got plenty of company. In fact, a couple of your friends, Patrick and Jake, often join you after school for a group skate in your driveway. All you need to do is set up the rail that your parents bought for you at Building 19 and the ramp they purchased at Toys “R” Us, and you're good to go -- grinding, jumping, whatever makes you happy.

Of course, you'd much rather hit the skate parks, starting with the one right here in Sudbury, where you attended The Park and Recreation Department's "skate camp" last summer. There's more riding to do there -- and more fun to be had -- on a range of crude, jerry-built contraptions known as grind boxes, pyramids, launch ramps, quarterpipes, halfpipes and bowls.

You're just a little boy, Scotty, but to see you move on your skateboard is to see a caged lion cub running free, or a bird about to take flight. You have so much energy to burn.

To build up speed, you hold your board in your right hand and take off in a gallop before laying it down, stepping on it one foot at a time, carefully balancing yourself with your arms outstretched, teetering just a tad before you take a courageous crack at yet another amazing stunt that belies your young age.

You refuse to wear any wrist, knee or elbow pads -- just like the tough teenagers. But you know better than to skate without wearing your shiny blue helmet. Skateboarding is not as hazardous as people think -- it's safer than most major sports, including soccer, basketball and baseball, according to one study -- but you're still not about to risk a head injury.

Sure, you've fallen off of your board "maybe, like, 200 times." Accidents happen. But you've never been hurt seriously. Just a lot of bumps and bruises, a scrape here, a black-and-blue mark there. Enough to make you feel weathered and wounded like a warrior after battle. But not enough to discourage you.

In fact, quite the contrary. You've learned the importance of getting back up after you've taken a tumble. You know what it means to try, try again, if at first you don't succeed -- something some people your parents' age still haven't learned.

It's time for bed now. It's been a long day. You ate a good dinner. Took a hot bath. And mom read you stories. Now it's dad's turn to say goodnight. You ask him if he can take you to a bigger skate park this weekend. There's an awesome one in Andover, and an even better one in Shrewsbury -- it's really cool there. Then just like a baby, sleep falls over you, and in your dreams you find yourself airborne with all of your skateboarding heroes.