My mother says when I was a child, I was generous with my toys. I always shared with my siblings. I like sharing, its easy for me. I don’t think about it, I just do it. I want everyone I care about to have what I have.
My generosity doesn’t extend to strangers. I very rarely give to charities. Strangers aren’t really real people to me. They are just anonymous numbers.
But when a stranger crosses the line, makes eye contact, speaks, gives me their name, they become real and meaningful.
I was at the gas station, filling the car’s gas tank, when the man approached me. His ragged clothing, dirty hair and face told me he was homeless. There are a number of them in our part of the city, more now since the surge of gentrification hit its peak about a year ago. I did not turn to…
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