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When I was young, I lived in Memphis, Tennessee. There were many iconic places there, such as Graceland, Beale Street, and the mighty Mississippi River. The one that I was most fascinated by, however, was St. Jude’s Hospital. It was situated just north of downtown Memphis and in front of the building was a gazebo with a golden gilded roof.

In elementary school one year, my class participated in a Math-athon. The students were to collect pledges and for each math problem we worked we receive a monetary donation. I earned twenty or thirty dollars. The beneficiary of my hard work? St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.

One night, I couldn’t sleep. I was in my early twenties and couldn’t sleep. I had been suffering from a bit of depression that led to a period of insomnia. On these nights I would lie awake and watch television. As I flicked through the cable channels I came across a kind lady with long brunette hair with a bald-headed child on her lap. The lady was Marlo Thomas, the child was a patient at St. Jude’s. I felt immediately connected to the screen. I watched the story of the child whose name I have since forgotten. At the end of the story Marlo Thomas looked sadly into the camera and reported that the child succumbed to cancer, but that there were plenty of other children who needed help. My donation would help them. There were several more personal stories, interviews with children who had cancer and their parents who were so grateful for the car that their loved-one received at St. Jude’s hospital. At St. Jude’s, Ms. Thomas reminded me, no one would be denied treatment for inability to pay.

I think they show these ads a night because people feel vulnerable at night. The hustle and bustle of the day is over and if someone is up late watching T.V. perhaps they are searching for something to make them feel better. Helping children makes people feel better about themselves. I donated that night and St. Jude’s is still my favorite charity.