DEAR ABBY: I was 8 years old and it was the last day of school. I was living in a less-than-caring foster home and worried about the 50 cents I owed my school for several lost books. Unless I paid for the books, I would not get my fourth-grade report card.
When I heard that news, I left school crying and running, and didn't see the tall man until I ran straight into his legs. He asked me what was the matter, and I told him about the 50 cents. He reached into his pocket, took out two quarters, and in a kind voice said, "Things will be all right now."
Overjoyed to have the money, I paid for the books, got my report card, and shortly thereafter, my mother was able to take me back to live with her.
The year was 1942; the world was at war. Our state of Florida was still in a depression, and that 50 cents was a lot of money in those days.
Abby, to this day, every act of generosity I perform -- every dime I give to a cause -- is in honor of that man. I don't remember his face. I only recall his brown shoes, which I saw first when I ran into him. His kindness to a crying child made all the difference in my life. -- MARILYN IRLBACHER, NASHUA, N.H.
DEAR MARILYN: Your letter is a relevant one for this season of giving. He who takes care of the least of us invests in the best of us.