“It’s just kind of hard to swallow,” said Angela Burgess. “But it lets you know that there are still some good people in this crazy old world.”
Two weeks ago, the Progress reported that Burgess, a single woman struggling to pay medical bills after being diagnosed with cervical cancer, had two pickup truck loads of empty cans stolen from underneath an awning at Skid, Inc. in Jasper, her place of employment.
Burgess said she spent months of “nasty” work collecting the cans and estimated they would have brought between $85 to $100 when turned in for recycling. The money was earmarked for a trip to Kentucky to help her 22-year-old daughter, a college student, move into a new apartment.
Now through the generosity of complete strangers, Burgess has recovered much of what was stolen, she said.
“I know the cans weren’t worth a lot of money,” she said. “But it is to me. When you get to a point where you find $10 in your pocket, and you think, hey, that’s a lot, you know you could use all you can get.”
Burgess said she fell behind in rent and utilities following her diagnosis and ensuing medical treatments and has been struggling to keep afloat since. Burgess has no family in the area other than her mother to help her with bills.
“You know, being divorced you kind of have to start over,” she said. “I had a house and mortgage and no one to help, and when I got sick, things got depleted. One month the power was off and the next, the water. That’s why I started collecting the cans. ”
Burgess was also recently forced to cancel her health insurance policy when the cost increased by $250 per month following her cancer diagnosis.
But as she said, generosity is not dead.
In the two weeks since the story ran, Burgess says she has received numerous calls and visits from people looking to help her recoup what was stolen.
The Progress is aware of several generous cash donations, and Burgess said numerous people have donated their own empty cans, totaling approximately 50 percent of what was stolen. But Burgess says being on the receiving end of charity is awkward, unfamiliar territory.
“It makes me want to cry, the generosity of people,” she said. “I am so appreciative and humbled, but I was always the one giving. I never thought of having to be the recipient. It makes me realize the world’s not as bad as we think it is.”
The cash made it possible for Burgess to travel to Kentucky to see her daughter, but while she was away, Burgess said she received telephone calls from some “wonderful ladies” offering to donate their own empty cans, but Burgess said the women did not leave a telephone number in the message.
“I was out of town, but I would like to get in touch with them,” she said. “I’ll absolutely take any cans I can get. But I wanted to also say sorry for anyone who has called and gotten no answer. Because of the bill collectors that call all the time, I don’t pick up on numbers I don’t recognize,” she said. “I should have thought about that before the article ran with the number in it.”
Burgess sends her heartfelt gratitude to all the people that “didn’t know me at all but who cared enough to help.” |
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| PHOTO BY ANGELA REINHARDT |
| Angela Burgess looks at the only cans not stolen from Skid, Inc., Burgess’ place of employment. Burgess was collecting cans to help pay for a trip to see her daughter in Kentucky. |
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