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15 February 2005


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Thank you, Christie, and Kathleen for sharing this with me.



I don't *quite* remember the Great Depression; if anyone came to the door, it would have been the back door. I remember being told that bums had to go to the back door in the New Jersey home owned by my grandparents, who cared for me while Daddy was in a submarine and Mommy was not well. Stories of that time I do remember, and that food was given at the kitchen table.

Kathleen's story was poignant indeed, and I'm glad you included it. It cause me to wonder if we gentler, back then, more generous? More willing to help others down on their luck?

Today on Lincoln Way, stopped at the signal at 25th Avenue, I gave the man a dollar -- "Hungry Veteran" the sign said. Who cares if it was true? Who cares what he did with the dollar? When you give it away, it isn't yours any more.

But not a single driver, stopped behind me, followed suit.


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