By now, we were tired and heading home to Lockhart. We only had one blanket left – a pink one. The pink ones are always the last to go (oddly enough, it is also the color we most often find at garage sales). We had one backpack, one hat, a couple of sweatshirts and some extra bags of toiletries left. Near the interstate, we saw a man flying a sign. We were two lanes away, but I hollered out the window to him asking if he could use a blanket. He hurried through the traffic over to us as I popped the trunk from inside the car. Breezy jumped out and loaded his arms with everything we had. He said he would be happy to take the pink blanket. He didn’t care what color it was. He thanked us and hurried out of the traffic lane as the light was about to change.

  That evening, I was on my way back to Austin for my office Christmas party. It was dark and cold. At a red light, there was a man in a wheelchair with a sign that read “Veteran. Anything will help. Thank you and God Bless.” He was well-groomed and had clean white hair and kind blue eyes. He was missing a leg. I rolled down my window to give him some money. He gently held my hand for a moment and quietly said, “Thank you for stopping. So many people won’t even look at me – as if this wasn’t humiliating enough. I used to be one of you. . . .” Before he could finish, the driver of the car behind me honked – the light had turned green. There was no one in either of the other two lanes, but rather than go around me . . . . The look on the man’s face when that car honked will stay with me for a very long time. It is just no way to treat another human being, let alone a disabled veteran. I could go on and on, but this is not meant to be a political forum, so I’ll not soap box here.

  We’ll just continue to do our little part. Come January, we’ll be hitting the yard sales again to start restocking our inventory. Then next December, just like every December since 1991, on the Saturday before Christmas Eve, Kate and Breezy and I (along with whomever wants to tag along) will once again don our Santa hats and hit the streets. It just wouldn’t feel like Christmas otherwise. And of course, I will update our little story with interesting encounters to send to all of you who ask for a copy. . . .