It's Time to Help Others Before the 2nd Helpings

h, joy. Now it begins again. The holidays! Frenzied shopping, recorded voices pounding our ears with elevator music about a white Christmas, chestnuts roasting and that deer with a hangover-induced red nose.

Forced smiles from those who pretend to be cheerful while getting more and more depressed. And Scrooge, a practical businessman still maligned and misunderstood on TV every night. He should have sued Charles Dickens.

Then there is the turkey. Millions of Americans hate turkey. We are the ones who have been intimidated by cholesterol-obsessed doctors into avoiding sandwiches made with salami, corned beef, liverwurst and other manly foods. So all year, we obediently chew turkey sandwiches at lunch. We're not even permitted to douse them with ketchup or mustard because condiments are salty, which the docs warn is a blood pressure no-no.

There was a time in another life when I worked at a place that provided me the means to a cheerful holiday season.

Now the holidays begin, and what do we get--more turkey. Why couldn't the Pilgrims have eaten pork shanks with dumplings and red cabbage? Or prime rib and a baked potato with sour cream? If only the early settlers had been carefree Italians instead of uptight WASPs. We would all be eating lasagna, sausage with green peppers and garlic bread.

It wasn't always like this. There was a time in another life when I worked at a place that provided me the means to a cheerful holiday season.

That's because every year at this time it would launch a reader participation called ''My Most Unforgettable Christmas.''

Readers would write in with their most unforgettable tales. Most of the stories were touching, poignant, almost certain to bring a sentimental tear to the eye.

But the person who handled all of these stories would keep a folder of those stories that were a bit eccentric.

And every few days, she would drop a folder with these stories on my desk, and I would share them with my readers.

That's how I got the story of John H., who recalled as a little boy being taken to a neighborhood department store to get up on Santa's knee to tell him what he wanted.

And how, on Christmas Eve, his mom told him to trot down to the neighborhood tavern and tell his dad to come home for dinner.

And how, when he walked into the neighborhood tavern, he saw his dad duking it out with the very same Santa Claus on whose knee the boy had sat.

It is still one of my favorite ''unforgettable Christmas'' stories.

Then there was Sidney, whose father was a machine precinct captain. And just before Christmas, the father and little Sidney would drive around the precinct and little Sidney would go to the front doors of loyal Democratic voters and give them a turkey.

And years later, Sidney recalled ringing the doorbell of one little bungalow. A young man opened the door, and little Sidney introduced himself and handed the young man the turkey.

And, as Sidney told it, the young man turned around and yelled: ''Hey, pa, there's some little Jew here who wants to give us a turkey.''

But this paper doesn't solicit poignant stories. So that leaves me with the most unpleasant chore of the year: putting the mooch on readers to kick in to this paper's do-gooder charity.

I figure this is as good a time as any since many of you are sitting there, filled with food, drink and contentment. Vulnerable.

Now, think of those who have so much less while you have so much more.

And think of what might happen if you don't write a modest check and send it in with the coupon printed below.

I'll tell you what might happen: Those who have less might get fed up and rise up in a revolution--storming into your neighborhood, your home, looting, pillaging and carrying off your womenfolk.

Do you want that to happen? Maybe your womenfolk do, but you don't. So think of your contribution as survival insurance.

And this is a good time to do it since you probably haven't gone out and blown your wad on a new computer that will just make your life more complicated.

One other thing: By giving, you improve your chances of going to heaven. Don't you want that? Believe me, it is true. When you arrive, just tell them Mike sent you. Really, not one person has told me they were turned away.

Clout. Don't leave this world without it.