By Melanie Wong
The words “Salvation Army” evoke distinct memories in everyone’s mind. Frigid afternoons, I’d be running into WalMart or City Market to pick up my groceries and there he is, bundled up in stocking cap, heavy mittens, a parka, and that evocative crimson apron, ringing a bell in front of that red kettle suspended by a metal hook, like a bucket over a wishing well. I would rummage in my purse every time I encountered him, shoving a dollar bill or two into the tight slot at the top of the kettle. I wasn’t ever quite sure where the money went, …
Source:: Vail Daily Feed
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