Pamela Tracy here and I'm thinking about the power of words.
Sunday afternoon my family - extended plus friends, sixteen of us - went to a baseball game. The Diamondbacks against the Padres. Alas, the Padres won .
After the game, we were heading for the parking garage and up ahead was a homeless man. He was leaning against a wall, his bicycle there too, both scruffy. He had a sign saying he was homeless. He pinpointed my seven-year-old and his ten-year-old friend.
"Got any change?"
The ten-year-old walked over and handed him the five dollar bill he'd brought to the game but not spent.
I'm walking behind them and not sure how I feel about the ten-year-old handing over money.
When we got into the car, my seven-year-old said, "Why did you give him money? He might use it for drugs."
My son is aping my words. He's been with me when people have asked for money and I've offered food - even going into a store to get it or driving through Mickey D's and coming back.
Yet, there was something poignant about the ten-year-old just giving without a thought.