Well, sniff...

You all got this ol' hillbilly all choked up with these amazing stories. But the underlieing denominator is love and , sniff, I love all of you folks and I love all these stories...

As fir my own, oh geeze, I discovered that there is al least one wonderfull story in every person you meet and that's what makes it tough to pick out huist one.

Having worked as a jail house teacher, a social worker in Adult Services, the poverty program and been a volunteer in som many things I've lost count I have been absolutely blessed in meeting so many folks who others might thing didn't have a wonderful story to tell. But, to my amazement, we all hve that in common.

But I'll chose my grandmother who I lost 3 years ago when she dies at age 101. She lived in a tiny house in Detroit, Mich. almost all of her life and in the 60's during the burning and riots in Detroit, the burning of blocks stopped one block short of her tiny home. Over the next couple of years her neightborhood became a ghetto yet she reamined there. In 1970 I went top visit her and the first night I was there, as it was getting dark, she said, "Come with me."

And so I did. I followed that woman thru alleys, past abandoned cars, thru groups of some rough looking folks, junkies, prositutes. In my grandmothers arm was a basket full of catfood and table scraps. She knew where all the stray cats lived. She knew where a mama cat was nursing her kittens in the back of an abandoned car. She was in her 70's and a white woman living in the ghetto and caring for cats for blocks around. Every night she was out in the alleys feeding them cats...

Sniff....

Heck of a wonderful story...

Just as all of these stories...

Sniff...

Bobert