A Luka

I spend a lot of time in coffee shops all around the Midwest and Northwest. Long drinks of tea and the occasional muffin count the majority of my calorie intake. I get strange looks in the majority of the places. Not Starbuck’s because Starbuck’s marketing plan is centered to people who look like me. At small town coffee shops and wire-less cafes stares and quizzical glances great me at the door and exist through my People’s Green.
The last man who was in many of these places with a pressed white shirt, tailored suit and freshly shined shoes might have been the health inspector or a lost insurance salesman asking for directions. I’m neither. Instead, I am a rare bread: a non-profit Luka.
Luka is the Taiwanese word for warrior. A word appealing to the blue-collar workers of that island nation because it ignores the new official language of Mandarin and reaches back into native tongue untouched by any colonization be it European or Asian. A Luka is fierce and courageous-the same combatant force as an Aztec or Spartan.
In small Iowa towns, Chicago suburbs and tops of Washington peaks, I am there asking for a gift for my non-profit. To do this, I need not to look like the longhaired, five o’clock shadowed graduate student I once was. But instead need to appear, as I would be as comfortable in a bank vault as I am at Kanya concerts. So, if you ever get a call from your favorite charity, and a person wants to come over to talk about the programs. Realize this you will be coming face-to-face with a Luka. A person who will be told ‘no’ more often then ‘yes’, but with the same smile of a Nadar canvasser and the courage of ancient solider will ask for your generous support. Because, truly without people like you, your favorite charity wouldn’t be in business.