Sam Dean | The Roanoke Times

Salvation Army bell ringer Ricky Parker is one of the best the agency has, according to a commander for the Roanoke Corps. Parker, who has cerebral palsy and uses a wheelchair, is a familiar sight at the entrance of the Walmart at Valley View.

There’s Ricky Parker, sitting in his wheelchair on the sidewalk in front of the Walmart at Valley View, ringing a bell beside a Salvation Army red kettle. People hustle past, some stopping to stuff dollar bills and handfuls of change into the pot. Most, though, hurry inside or push their full carts briskly to their cars. Anything to get out of the cold.

Parker stays put, bound up against the cold in a heavy coat, a hood and gloves. He turns his face, highlighted by bright blue eyes and neatly trimmed mustache, away from the wind. He keeps ringing that bell with his left hand.

“It’s windier than I thought it would be,” he said. The words come hard. The cerebral palsy that severely restricts his arms and legs also affects his tongue and mouth, rendering his speech difficult to understand. But for five weeks in late fall he keeps ringing that bell, eight hours a day, six days a week. He’s there in the freezing cold and in the raw December rain, earning $7.25 an hour for his work Monday through Friday. On Saturdays, he volunteers.

He does the job because, knowing firsthand what it’s like to need assistance, he likes to help people in need. Mostly, though, he does it because he wants to prove that he can work and earn his keep.

“I like making money on my own so I can get off the system,” he said. “I can compete doing this. Regular office work, my muscles don’t work fast enough to keep up with a real job.”

He does more than just compete. According to area Salvation Army officials, Parker brings in more money than any other ringer — about $3,500 since Nov. 27.

Of course, much of that has to do with the location. Walmart is a high-traffic area, to say the least. But then again, “the best ringers get the best spots,” said Maj. Samuel Van DenBerg, commander for the Roanoke Corps. “He’s very inspirational. I wish I had more people like him.”

A mind to work

Parker, 46, grew up in Covington, the fifth of seven children raised by a single mother. The family was actually larger than that, because Parker’s mom, Aneita Roberts, kept taking in foster children — as many as 14 at a time. As a younger man, Parker could walk short distances unassisted, but he has been severely physically limited his entire life. Cerebral palsy is a disorder caused by damage to the brain, usually the cerebrum, the largest part of the brain that controls thought and motion. The damage often occurs during pregnancy. There is no cure. Cerebral palsy affects individuals differently. Parker’s physical abilities are limited, but he is unimpaired mentally.

“His mind is perfectly fine,” said Wanda Morgan, his younger sister. “Basically, it’s all physical. Communication skills are difficult for him, but if you’re patient, you can understand him. Mentally, he’s completely fine.” Parker completed his high school work at home, then attended Dabney S. Lancaster Community College in Clifton Forge while Morgan was a student there. He took computer and business classes and later enrolled at Radford University, where he spent three years working toward a degree in sociology. He left there barely a semester short of graduation, ultimately frustrated by the difficulty of getting around day to day on campus.

He desperately wanted to work. He briefly held down jobs in data entry and bookkeeping in Covington. He decided to move to Roanoke, hoping that a larger city would afford more job opportunities to a physically disabled person. Job prospects were a little better in Roanoke. He worked as a greeter at an Advance Auto Parts store for two years. Then, in 1996, he took a seasonal job as a bell ringer for the Salvation Army. With the exception of one year, he has been a bell ringer every Christmas season since.

“It’s not a great job, but it’s something I can do well,” he said.

The Salvation Army hires a brigade of full-time, paid bell ringers every year. Van Denberg, the local commander, would prefer to rely upon mostly volunteer ringers, to keep costs down, but volunteers are often hard to find. He doesn’t mind hiring a conscientious worker such as Parker.

“His heart is in it,” he said. “He does it because he wants to show he’s useful.”

Parker lives alone in an apartment in Northwest Roanoke, but he receives assistance through the Personal Assistance Services program administered by the Virginia Department of Rehabilitative Services and paid for by Medicaid.

A person helps him get to and from work, although he also likes to take the bus around town. He has a motorized wheelchair, but he cannot transport it to his bell-ringing job.

He has been known to ride the bus to his sister’s house in Salem to hand-deliver birthday cards to her and her children. Two brothers live in the Roanoke Valley. His mother remarried and lives in Alabama.

Parker loves computers and can type, slowly but surely. He even has a Facebook account. Mostly, though, he uses the Internet to read about conservative politics.

“Ricky’s independent,” his sister said. “He wants to feel like he can make a contribution and live on his own.”

Neither rain nor cold

Dec. 9 was a day when you wish it would just get cold enough to snow. It didn’t. The temperature hovered in the upper 30s as a miserable rain soaked Walmart shoppers.

Parker sat out in the rain until his friend Angela Stewart wheeled him beneath an overhang near the automatic doors.

Stewart is an optometrist whose office is located in the front of Walmart, between the megastore’s two entrances. She and her assistant Melissa Richards first met Parker about four years ago. It was raining then, too.

“Ricky would be sitting in the rain in his poncho,” Stewart recalled. “Melissa would go out and donate money and take him hot chocolate.”

On the recent rainy evening, people raced past Parker, toting umbrellas or with coats slung over their heads as dinner hour approached. A few stopped to shove bills into a kettle that was almost full.

“Sometimes there’s three to five people in a row,” Parker said. “I’ve seen them wait in line for each other. Sometimes they come right together, sometimes they’re spread far apart.”

When the Red Kettle Campaign ends, he will be out of work. He wants another job after the holidays but doesn’t know who would hire him.

Sometimes, when the cold wind blows or the freezing rain falls, he ponders the fact that he is a man in a wheelchair ringing a bell for eight hours a day to help people who are much more physically able than he is. “But I know what it’s like to need assistance, too,” he said. “So I don’t think about it too long.”