Everything to Give

 

Audrey woke up early that morning feeling particularly surly. A short stream of profanity left her lips as she realized that she was wide awake, a full hour before the sounding of her alarm. She slowly sat up, swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and scanned the room for her slippers. “Why is it so cold in here?” she wondered, seeing her breath in cloud form leave her mouth as she spoke to herself. Her orange cat Frances lay curled up in a tight ball at the foot of her bed. “I guess it’s not only me who feels cold.”

Thankful for wearing socks to bed the previous evening, she hurried across the bedroom, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Watching the steam build up after turning on the water, she took a shower, a little too hot, wanting to drive away the chill that touched every ounce of her being. She waited several minutes longer than normal to begin shaving her legs, waiting for the goose bumps to disappear.

Hating to leave the glorious warmth, she turned off the water, shook herself free of excess droplets, and dried off, feeling the cold once again trying to overtake her comfortable state. “Ugh, I’ve got way too much time before I go to work,” she grumbled. She ran a comb through her gloriously long blonde hair to then work it through with a detangler. The heat of the blow dryer was a nice touch of warmth that drove away the cold.

“Stupid furnace, I guess I’ll have to call the manager again,” she said. “I cannot live like this and shouldn’t have to. Hopefully they can fix it while I’m at work.” She scrunched her hair, added some curls, and a few shots of hairspray to make herself look somewhat reasonable. “I wish I could find a man that earns a lot of money, so I can stay home, cook, clean, raise babies, and be the adoring housewife. That would be awesome.”

She hurried across the hallway into her bedroom and argued with herself about what to wear that day. The visions of interacting with her boss, interacting with her co-workers, most of whom were borderline simpletons and distracted by the stupid vanity of the world, tempted her to quit her job. She knew this was not an option, at least not until she found that perfect man who would provide for her. The club scene she dipped into on occasion provided no one of marrying value. She thought about her neighbors, the occasional man on the subway or the grocery store.

“I need to start looking somewhere else,” she said. “None of my friends have offered up anyone who I would even consider marrying. Of course, Mom always has suggestions of men from her church. I suppose a religious guy would be stable and faithful, at least I would hope so. Maybe that’s worth a shot,” she mused.

She finally decided on the blue miniskirt with a white top and flats. “I do not want to spend all day in high heels.” She finally found her slippers and padded around her cold apartment, wondering what to eat for breakfast.  “I’ve got lots of time. Maybe I’ll stop for a muffin and a coffee. Good chance there are eligible men at the bakery or the coffee shop. Here’s for hoping.”

Now fully dressed and comfortable, she returned to the bathroom to apply her makeup and touch up her hair.  “Okay, don’t take too long. If you get there early enough, you’ll have time to chat and flirt if anyone is around,” she said. She slipped her laptop into her bag, reviewed her notes from the meeting the day before, knowing that her boss would be expecting an answer to the long-standing question of how to resolve the database problem that had plagued them for the last week.

“Oh, shoot, I need to call the manager before I leave,” she said. She dialed his number, waited for him to answer, and then explained the problem. “Oh, good, thanks Carl. Yes, please send someone over today. I’ll be at work all day and I would really love to come home to a warm apartment.” She scanned over the apartment for anything valuable or any cash lying around. Seeing nothing worth stealing, she locked the door behind her, took the elevator to the main floor and walked four blocks to the closest bakery and the coffee shop.

Buying two muffins at the bakery, and a large mocha at the coffee shop, she took a seat in a far corner and tried to make eye contact with every reasonable looking healthy young man that entered. On her fourth attempt, the tall, dark, and handsome young man named Jonathan approached her at her table, asking if he could join her. She offered up a small smile and said, “Yes, please, I would love some company.” Thankfully, the conversation went smoothly, as he seemed to be well informed about everything.  They exchanged phone numbers and parted ways.

Trembling with excitement, her imagination got the better of her, as she began to create many different scenarios in her mind of their future relationship. She descended the stairs to the subway, rode for fifteen minutes and ascended to the sidewalk to cross the street and enter her office building. She was three hours into her day when her phone dinged. She glanced at the screen and saw the name of the glorious young man from the coffee shop, asking if he could take her out for dinner the coming weekend.

She replied, “Yes,” and asked for the name of the restaurant where she could meet him. After a few moments, he replied with a name and a time. She thanked him and said she would be there on time and possibly a little early. Once again, her imagination ran away with her, creating images and scenes of the coming weekend. She pictured herself introducing Jonathan to her parents, to her friends, and to her extended family.

Stirred from her introspection, her boss called her into a meeting, looking for answers for the database problem. Fortunately, she had fabricated an answer during her ride on the subway, an answer that seemed to appease him and the guys in IT. Thankfully, the meeting lasted a mere ten minutes, allowing her to return to her fanciful imagination about the handsome Jonathan. “God, I would love to get together with him, quit this boring job and be the perky, happy housewife,” she thought.

The first date took place and could not have gone any better. Which was followed by a countless number of lunch and dinner dates, an introduction to her parents, and a weekend in Paris after six months. They stood together at the Louvre. She watched him drop to one knee and her heart crawled up into her throat. She heard the words she had hoped to hear, and she quickly answered, “Yes.”

They returned to the states and immediately began planning for the wedding. “We need to give ourselves and everyone else enough time to prepare for this. This is a really big deal,” she said.

“I’m thinking that six months should be enough time to make all of these decisions,” he said. “We need to reserve a church, pick out the flowers, the attendants, and create the guest list. Of course, the guest list should come first so people have enough time.”

They sat together at his dining room table, writing down notes, planning for everything they could imagine, and she dreamed of this new future she had so long longed for. “Can you give me a ride home? I really don’t want to navigate the subway like this with all of my luggage.”

“Yes, of course, “he said. “We need to tell our parents right away. Oh, also, I have a great plan for our honeymoon. I want it to be a surprise for you. I promise, you’ll love it.”

After the short drive to her apartment, he walked her to the door, kissed her goodbye, and she watched him walk down the hallway toward the elevator. “Oh wow, this is actually happening. It’s too early to tell my boss that I’m quitting. I need to give my two week notice like a good employee.” She closed her door, sat down on her couch and began dreaming of the new life that would become a reality after the next six months.

“I’ve given so much to that stupid job,” she said. “It seems like no one there appreciates how much I’ve sacrificed the company. Now I can pour myself into being a housewife who gives her all to make her husband happy.” Images of a happy home life, babies, and decades of fun and faithfulness filled her head.

“Oh, so good,” she said. “Now this is just a matter of staying focused on my work, on planning for the wedding and I wonder where he’s thinking about for a honeymoon. I will be that good, loving, faithful wife, who creates a house of peace and joy when he returns home each day. This is so good. I cannot wait to tell my parents.”

“I’ve poured everything into work for the past six years, and now I can pour everything into a husband, a home, and children. It doesn’t get any better than this.” She looked around her empty apartment, saw her cat, and wished that the six months would quickly pass, allowing for their union to happen sooner than later. “We need to be one,” she thought.

Work Life Balance

 

Even into his thirties, Andrew would often think back to his childhood, his parent’s and being an only child in a military family. Both of his parents were decorated Navy Seals, ridiculously successful in their multiple deployments around the world. He was born in the United States and moved from military base to military base, in more countries than he could count. He grew up among adults, attended school in Afghanistan, South Korea, Syria, Germany, and Columbia, all of which required him to learn the languages of his classmates.

After eighteen years of military life, surrounded predominantly by military personnel, he moved away from home upon graduation, longing for a normal life among normal people in the safe and calm United States. With a brain full of self-defense skills, gun expertise, and five languages, he was a raging success in every avenue he pursued in the free world. He had never actually known a normal childhood, but instead only ever thought like, spoke like, and acted like an adult who assessed every situation, every movement, and every room he entered.

After completing university, he had no desire to enter the military. The thought of sitting behind a desk and working on a computer seemed insanely boring to him. Instead, he chose to enter into the vocation of a bodyguard. Having weapons training, self-defense skills, and fluency in multiple languages made him an incredibly value resource for the rich and powerful who traveled the world. As each month passed, he watched his bank account grow at a surprising rate, which prompted him to consider taking a lengthy vacation with any of the hundreds of girls that sought his attention.

When his bank account reached half a million, he notified his lawyer that he would be taking a break from his work for a couple of months and do some traveling. His lawyer immediately responded with an email, asking him to stop by the office and fill out some paperwork declaring the exact details of his plans and how to respond to potential new clientele. As it was only two in the afternoon, Andrew stopped for a coffee and drove to his lawyer’s office.

The four-page document covered every possible detail of his vacation plans, his date of return, and how to respond to potential new clients. He drove home to an empty home, found a map of the world, and began to plan his next five vacations. “I need to see quality art, I need to be somewhere warm, and I would love to visit those places the military did not bring us,” he thought. “Now I need to think about which girl to invite for each trip. Two weeks with each one, in a different place, would be a great change of pace. It would be nice to have different company for each vacation.”

“Some of them like the heat, some of them like art, and some of them like to just travel and most love to be spoiled with shopping and fancy restaurants,” he said to himself. “Let’s see, Britney loves art, so she and I can go to Paris, visit the Louvre, and any other artistic or architectural wonders in that glorious old city.” He placed a phone call to Britney, invited her to join him on his trip to France, which she immediately accepted.

“I was hoping to leave next weekend,” he told her. “If you can absolutely confirm your intent to join me, I’ll buy the plane tickets, rent a hotel room, and make plans for what to do on each day.”

“Yes, absolutely,” she said. “I won’t have any trouble taking time off of work. I have quite of bit of vacation time built up, so it won’t be a problem. When you work out the details, let me know what day and time you’ll pick me up.”

In a mechanical process, Andrew continued the same process for his trip to the beaches in Ecuador, calling Madeline to join him a few days after returning from France. He wrote down every detail, in the rigid, militaristic approach to life that was taught to him by his parents. Madeline too immediately accepted his invitation, which he followed up with more phone calls, more reservations, more plane tickets, and several orders online for clothes and any other necessities.

This became a pattern for the next three vacations. Each one following the previous by a couple of days off in between, giving himself time to relax, to enjoy some solitude, and the boredom of home life. Lisa accepted his invitation to travel to St. Petersburg and a few other locations in western Russia. Like all of the others, he carefully documented each day, each evening, and he bought more tickets for shows, for symphonic performances, and the comfort of fine dining and five-star hotels.

His next call was to Abigail, whom he remembered as one who loved to travel in general. He made plans with her to hop from city to city, covering eight different cities across western Europe. Their first destination was the city of Copenhagen, which would be followed by train rides from city to city, enjoying the beauty of nature, the comfort of first-class travel, and one another’s company. He deliberately chose this fourth trip with Abigail to be the busiest. He saved his final trip with Nataliya for an African safari, knowing how much she loved animals and warm weather.

With a groan, he collapsed on his couch, his head full to overflowing with travel details, hotel reservations, numberless performances to watch, and dinner reservations in the finest of restaurants. He casually flipped through his notebook, reminding himself of the basic flow of life for the next twelve weeks. “Phew, this is going to be one heck of a summer,” he thought. “I need to get hold of the bank about getting me the right cash for each country and for each city.”

“Okay, I’ve got eight days before I need to be ready for the first trip.” After a quick shower, he watched a movie, enjoyed a bottle of Malbec with a meat and cheese tray. His mind was a whirlwind of details, which he wished he could suppress and ignore. He finished his movie, finished his meat, cheese, and wine and went to bed to rise early, knowing that he had almost numberless details to address.

Late the next morning, he visited his bank, ordered cash for each trip, and a specific schedule for when the funds would be needed. The Euro would cover his needs across western Europe, he would need an obscene amount of rubles for his trip to Russia, as well as the American dollar for his trip to Ecuador. He was uncertain of his monetary needs for Africa, so sought guidance from his banker in that regard. With everything in place and scheduled, he left the bank with plans to return in three days to retrieve the abundance of cash in the form of the Euro.

He returned home, placed a call to Britney and gave her the details for their trip, the day and time he would be picking her up at home. He readied himself for weeks of inane conversation, ridiculous spending, and spoiling these silly, immature, and distracted young women. He appreciated Britney’s love for art and always enjoyed conversations with her about the different artists, the different composers, and the fine dining they would enjoy.

In each location across the globe over the many weeks of travel, he made of point of financially supporting the homeless people they encountered as they traveled from place to place. Each girl was the same, except for Britney. Each one chastising him for giving away money to lazy people. He full well knew that this would be their response, and he reminded them that he was spoiling them as well. That it was his money and there were people who had needs and how it was good and right to help others, especially when there were children involved.

Two weeks in Paris was followed by a two-day break, which was followed by two weeks in Ecuador, which was a nice change from the cool and rainy French environment. He took three days off after Ecuador to prepare himself for two weeks with Lisa in Russia. He took four days off after Russia, knowing that city hopping for two weeks with Abigail would be exhausting. Which was followed by three days off and a trip across Africa with Nataliya.

Each vacation was the same. Ridiculous amounts of spending, perfect comfort, fine dining, performances, and the giving away of money and necessities to the many homeless and needy people in each location. He and Nataliya returned to the United States from Kenya. He gave her a ride home, and collapsed on his bed at home, thrilled to be done with so much travel, so much play and so much ridiculous conversation with small minded and vain girls who were several years younger than he.

He lounged around his house for three days before calling his lawyer. He put together a financial plan that shocked his usual spending sensibilities. “This was a great balance of fun, comfort, entertainment, and helping those in need,” he thought. “I really should do more for those in need and less for the shallow comforts of these ridiculous young women. It is nice to get out and do fun things with other people. A break like this every couple of years is probably a good idea.”

Feeling rested and relaxed, he phoned his lawyer, informing him of his return home and his plan to return to work within the week. “Please go ahead and schedule the next client, if there is one. The vacations were great, but I really feel the need to get active again. Thanks for keeping my work life on the rails while I was gone. Call me when something comes up.”

“Yes, Andrew, of course,” he answered. “There were a few phone calls while you were away. I know some of them planned well in advance, so you most certainly have work lined up. Mr. Darlington has requested your services in four days from now. So please be ready for his needs. He said he would forward the details to us. I expect them tomorrow. Have a good day, sir.”

Lost on the Palouse

 

            Peter had just exited I-90 onto exit 245 heading into the tiny town of Sprague to see a handful of homes, a restaurant, a gas station, and a cannabis dispensary. He had heard stories of the beauty of the rolling wheat fields, the endless, non-descript curving roads touched only by rock and sparse brush outside of the fields and could not resist the temptation to take the drive to see it for himself, thrilled at the prospect of walking through such glory.

              At just below a quarter of a tank, he pulled into the gas station to experience possibly the slowest pump known to mankind, scrubbing the multitude of bugs from his windshield as he waited, but finding that he still had more time, he washed the rear and side windows as well. Waiting even longer still, memories of buying bags of weed from the stoner kid in high school tempted him to pull across the street and indulge in an activity he had not partaken of in years, following the recommendation of the young girl behind the counter, a pungent, lemony strain, promising increased cerebral activity and an energy boost.

              Returning to his foray into the swirling, winding chaos of the open Palouse, he found himself surrounded by rocky, uneven, barren fields of sagebrush spotted by the occasional bovine, coyote, and deer. Rounding an uphill corner, he was forced to quickly swerve around a dead and bloating porcupine in the center of his lane, fortunate to meet no other traffic in his abrupt swing into the other lane.  Thirty minutes into his drive, he departed from the highway to a side road that, if his memory served correctly, led into the rolling wheat fields had been promised.

              Staying true to its word, the landscape rapidly shifted from barren rocks to wheat fields, which seemed to have no end, until he came across a wide turn off that allowed him free access to safe parking and what seemed to be the highest hill within shouting distance. Retrieving his single pre-roll encased in glass, a lighter, and several bottles of water, he walked to the top of the tallest hill and surveyed the surroundings, developing a plan in his mind of distance and direction that would hopefully prevent him from becoming lost in this rolling, directionless, and unhindered freedom of brown hills and blue sky.

              In a perfect balance of ascent and descent, he was thankful to see that most locations lay within range of a cellphone tower, and he puffed his lemony goodness, noting the sharp contrast between the tropical flavored smoke and the wheaty, dusty surroundings. Frequently glancing back to the high point that marked the beginning of this journey, he kept a second eye on the movement of the sun, triangulating his path, his point of origin, and his basic speed but soon came to realize that everything suddenly looked the same, having lost direct sight of his starting point. Cresting the zenith of his current hill, he sat down and surveyed everything surrounding him, his emotions a whirlwind, a fight between the possibility of being lost and the calming effect of the cannabis, while at the same time, feeling energized to continue his journey.

              Minus the few minutes he spent ruminating on his current condition, he noted that he had been walking for just over ninety minutes and found himself torn between two different directions to find his way back to his car, the road, and the way home, as visions of himself as an emaciated, dried, and slowly swelling corpse lying in the dust, harassed by crows, by worms, and the occasional fox, having fallen into a dead zone with no cell coverage, his family tormented at his unexplained silence. Shaking his head and focusing on a brighter future, he made a decision and began walking back, he guessed, to the direction from which he had come.

              Forty-five minutes into his return, he still felt completely disoriented but continued his path based on his interpretation of solar movement, trusting that the road would soon appear, hopefully fronted by his vehicle, growing hotter as the early summer sun beat down upon its closed interior. He finished his last bottle of water to joyfully recognize the black snaking asphalt still a fair distance ahead, breathing a sigh of relief, he eventually stepped through the ditch, with no car in sight, either his or any other, now faced with another decision, uncertain of the wisdom of a left or right turn, his sense of direction completely absent.

              Scraping a shallow divot with his heel, he planted an empty water bottle to mark the location he reached the roadway, before turning to the left hopefully find his car sooner than later, with every stretch of road containing nothing to stir his memory of the drive. He walked along the white line keeping track of his travel time and after thirty minutes he stopped, dug another shallow hole, and planted another bottle to mark his progress, frustrated with the realization that he had just spent the last thirty minutes walking in the direction opposite of his vehicle.

              The idea of aimless wandering, lost on the Palouse, and never seeing his family again crossed his mind more times than he could count and with no other option before him, he reversed his path, to walk another thirty minutes back to the first planted water bottle, to only continue on, finding his car no more than a mile beyond the point he had escaped the endless rolling hills. Sliding his back down the side of the car into the small block of shade he sat to enjoy a brief reprieve from the oppressive heat, wringing out his shirt, while feeling both ridiculous and thankful for resolving his potentially fatal situation.

              He jolted awake at the sound of aggressive sniffing, to see a fully grown cow only inches from his face. He made a mental note of the semi-darkness in which he now sat, concerned and confused how he had fallen asleep in this hot, dry, barren wasteland. His tongue felt as if it had swollen to three times its normal size, his rosy, red skin felt as if had been absorbing far too many hours of direct sunshine, and he knew that his family, now so far away would have grown concerned at his long absence and his failure to call or send the occasional text.

              Tired, sore, dry, and ridiculously thirsty, he rose slowly to his feet and considered the multi-hour drive that lay ahead of him. The thought of driving over the pass well past midnight was not a happy consideration but he knew that he had no other choice. Driving until he picked up enough bars on his phone to send a text, he stopped in front of someone’s driveway and sent the message that he was on his way home and wouldn’t be there until very early morning.

              Looking at his watch more times than he could count, he determined that, all things being equal, he would arrive home around three in the morning. His speedometer continued to climb higher and higher as he pushed his luck, hoping to get home sooner than later. Pulled from a semi-sleep by flashing red and blue lights, he pulled to the edge of the road, turned on his dome light, waiting for the officer to appear at his window.

              Knowing the routine, he rolled down his window, spoke calmly and respectfully to the police officer, and handed him his driver’s license and his proof of insurance. Watching the minutes click by as the officer took his time inside of his own vehicle, Peter sent another text message, confessing his crime of speeding, his being pulled over, and a reassessment of arriving home somewhere closer to four in the morning.

              He received the speeding ticket, apologized profusely, and set his cruise control at seven over the speed limit. He stopped for an extra-large coffee, and continued his mind-numbing drive home through the dark until he saw the first rays of early morning light appear on the horizon beyond him. The ever-familiar cul-de-sac embraced him as he reached his hometown. He pressed the garage door opener, entered the garage, closed the door behind him, and collapsed on his bed to have his wife leave him alone for the next several hours.

              Feeling frustrated and foolish for his lack of responsibility, his speeding, and the loss of funds from the ticket, he rose from bed just past noon, knowing that an online payment was his next chore, having no desire to go to court to have his traffic ticket reduced. Thankful for the weekend, he knew that one and a half normal days would get him back on track.

Known But Unknown

 

Athanasios graduated from high school two years early, having been advanced twice in his middle school and high school years. His mind was an inescapable trap that retained every detail he studied, every detail he was taught, and every word that he read. He earned his bachelor’s degree, his master’s degree and his PhD in seven years. He earned his doctorate at the age of twenty-three, and was chased by more women that he could count but he kept a level head, knowing that their interest in him was solely financial.

He took on the dual role of university professor and legal counsel for multiple judges across his home state. He had signed an NDA with the legal system, providing a level of secrecy and trust as he offered his interpretations and understanding of law with particularly difficult cases. His greatest joy in life was in helping those who had been overlooked by the legal system, had been cast into unfortunate and seemingly inescapable situations through accidents and hostility from others.

He lived his life through his forties, and into his fifties, knowing that no woman was genuinely interested in him, seeking only a sugar daddy to feed their empty and vain lives. The thought of being trapped in a relationship with someone shallow, basically ignorant, and less than academically challenging made his stomach turn. “I need someone who can intellectually stimulate me, challenge me, ask me questions, and provide love and stability to my ever-grasping mind,” he told himself.

As his life continued on toward old age, he found himself moving from one home to the next, to the next, and to the next, each one becoming more and more extravagant and luxurious. One evening as he sat alone in his library, staring at the polished hardwood ceiling that pinched him between itself and his hardwood floors, he wondered if there was anything more he could do to make the world a better place. “It seems like no matter how many cases I win or advise on, there always seems to be more and more wrong building up behind it all.”

At most times of the day, he would hold conversations with himself, asking questions, and then answering them, wishing for someone else with whom to dialog. Like a rocket chained down to the launchpad, he ached to do more, to learn more, to understand more, and to make more of a difference. “Give me problems to solve,” he cried out, though there was no one there to answer him or challenge him. “All of this money, all of this education, and all of this stuff merely gathers around me. There must be more I can do to help more people.”

“Financial rigor in the face of so many problems will certainly make an impact,” he said out loud. He opened his investment portfolio, compared it to the ridiculous amount of money he earned each money and immediately made the decision to create private foundations and nonprofit organizations that could make good use of this money, rather than him merely collecting it in bank accounts, in antiques, or in precious metals.

Athanasios spent the next nine months selling all of his possessions, collecting the cash, and eventually selling his home, keeping enough clothing and necessities in several storage units across the city. As the academic years drew to a close at the university, he announced his retirement for the coming year. He genuinely loved interacting with the other professors, the students, but at the same time was becoming more and discouraged by the loss of academic rigor and lowering expectation levels for the students.

He bought a small condominium in the center of town near the courthouse in order to make his legal interaction that much easier. He watched his investments grow, his nonprofit organizations make an impact across the world, and his private foundations provide medical care for those in need, educational grants for those who proved themselves worthy, and the construction of small single-family homes for the truly needy and hard working families, which reminded him of his own childhood and the struggles his parents had gone through.

Despite his ever-growing passion to do more, to help more, and to influence as many people as he could, he watched his friends, and former colleagues slowly drift away from his radically changing lifestyle. He was no longer the polished, classy, rigorous friend to his high-level group of wealthy, and self-centered people. His massive home had been sold, his artwork, his library and his expensive cars were all gone. Athanasios now lived a life of basic necessity and regular comfort and ease. He could no longer stomach the idea of comfort and wealth when he knew that there were so many who were struggling to pay for their basic necessities.

After two more years of offering legal advice, he finally stopped all of this work, all of his monthly income, and instead began focusing on how to live relatively comfortably with the interest he was earning from his former investments. Now with a great deal of time on his hands, he found his greatest joy in watching the positive impact all of his investments were making in the world. He received weekly updates from the many nonprofits, small businesses, and private foundations. Finally feeling like he was doing what he knew he should have been doing all of his life; he made the decision to personally impact the lives of those in the city around him.

His new home was completely paid for, the income from his investments easily covered his basic needs. All of this allowed him to buy groceries, pay medical bills, and help with mortgage payments for those in terrible need. Athanasios would spend the majority of each day walking among the homeless, visiting the sick in hospitals, and visiting those in prison, offering both his financial help when he knew it was needed, and his legal advice for those who had been wrongly imprisoned.

Knowing the greed and animosity of so many people, he maintained a low profile, presenting himself as a regular, friendly person who could offer help to those who needed it. He was the nice, old Greek guy who was friends with everyone. He would spend Sunday afternoons in the park playing chess with the other old men. He made a regular habit of buying food from the food carts, tipping well to help these small business owners.

Every Sunday and Wednesday evening, he would make grocery runs for a large number of families who were desperate to feed their children and keep their houses warm. He began to visit the power company and offered to pay electric bills for anyone who was behind in their payments. He refused to make himself known to those he helped in this way, imagining the joy each family felt when they learned that someone anonymously paid their bills.

There came a point in his life when he was no longer strong enough to travel, visit the sick, the incarcerated, or the grocery store. He started a new small business to take over this work of small budget philanthropy, encouraging those who took his place to continue the work with his abundant income. He transitioned his financial situation away from himself and toward the small business.

He hired a lawyer to draw up legal documents that would continue to invest his money into the small business and start similar small businesses in other surrounding cities. His transition from extravagant, wealthy businessman to a plain, generous smiling old man brought a surprised response from so many who knew him. Athanasios grew older and older to prepare his last will and testament, knowing that everything was in place to keep his plan for positive impact upon the world continuing for the next many centuries.

Though he had never married, never had children, and remained relatively distant to most who knew him, hundreds of people from around the city, from around the state, and even some from distant countries attended his funeral. It was an event he was sad to miss, wishing that he could warmly embrace and greet every one of them, as a last goodbye.