Kindness
Every year, just before Thanksgiving, I remember a woman, Mary, who I never knew very well. She was a neighbor who lived just a couple of blocks away. Our children were good friends, but our paths rarely crossed. She owned a specialty store in Plaza del Lago, Wilmette, a community just north of Evanston where we both lived. The shop had all kinds of Italian foods, sausages, cheeses, breads. An absolutely delicious assortment of salads, grilled vegetables, wines. Anyhow, Steve had chest surgery in October and after a fairly long stint in the hospital he came home. Within three weeks, he developed an excruciating pain in his leg which turned out to be a blood clot. So a few days before Thanksgiving, he was back in the hospital for another two weeks on bedrest. The children and I spent our days going back and forth between school, the hospital and home. There was no way I could prepare a Thanksgiving dinner. So I walked across the street and asked Mary if she would put together some sausa...