Burnt Chocolate Stories

I'm probably going to get into trouble for this suggestion, but the issue has been on my mind for some time. Here at Saint John's political discussions are tabu lest someone be offended which I totally understand and support. In the past, we did have candidates running for office present their views, both Democrats and Republicans. But that has waned. In fact lately, we only have current office holders talking about their responsibilities.  I'm absolutely not suggesting we discuss the differences between the two party system that exists. Rather, I think we should have discussions about how government, any government, should function. What is it's responsibility? Is everyone on an equal footing, or do some people have more rights than others?  What about children's rights? In the beginning of our country, only men with property could vote. We have evolved, certainly, but it's only because each of us, in our own small worlds, have demanded change. What else needs ...

 Most Friday evenings, just as I'm falling asleep, I think about what I'd like to write about the next day to you, but if I don't write it down, I frequently forget the topic. That happened to me today. My daughter and her husband visited me from North Carolina this past week. We had a lovely time together and went to The Domes in Mitchell Park one afternoon, something I had always wanted to do. Some of my Madison family joined us yesterday which was a treat as it always is.  But now, I am staring out the window at the lake, annoyed with myself that I failed to prepare properly for this morning. As if that even makes sense. But the truth is, I do feel an obligation to you, to share some momentary insight, to say hello, to spend part of a morning with you. Not that you would shame or scold me if I failed to produce a missive. I would do that for you. So here I am, thinking about the winter that will soon engulf us with cold winds and hopefully snow. I say hopefully because I...

Yesterday, I was asked to say a few words to the Alzheimer's Walk Group assembled here at Saint John's. Because I lost both my father, in 1991, and my husband, in 2025, to this treacherous disease, would I give a personal experience comment or two. Here's what I said. "Maintain a sense of humor and remember, in their heart, your loved one still loves you."  The truth is, I didn't always have a sense of humor. I was a skinny cry baby. I was teased about my crazy eye and was something of a recluse. I never quite fit in with the 'crowd' and decided I preferred being alone. Childhood memories are often blurry, as are mine, but I know I was a wanted, unhappy child. I pulled my hair tight into a ponytail so that every strand was straight against my scalp, hoping that would help me fit in with the group somehow. Of course, that didn't work. Somewhere in the middle of my teens, I decided to laugh, instead of cry, when things didn't go my way. It wasn...

Sometimes a presentation, program, book or conversation can open our minds and hearts to a new way of approaching some of life's challenges, unexpected pitfalls, new horizons. Dr. Vitek Murthy, former United States Surgeon General, presented his views on loneliness and the importance of connection at Chautauqua this summer.  I had the opportunity to view his extraordinary interview here at Saint John's.  One of the more poignant moments he described was a visit he had with a patient who was frightened about the surgery she was about to have. He felt overwhelmed and confused about what he could say that would be of help to her. Instead of speaking, he simply held her hand for many minutes. Human touch calmed her in a way that no words or statistics or surgical facts could have accomplished.  Which is what made me think about what I miss most now that I live alone. Steve and I held hands when we took a walk together, pulled each other up from the sofa, sat together watching...

When I was twenty six and pregnant with our second child, Joshua, I went to Anshe Emet Synagogue to hear Gloria Steinem speak. At the time, I'm not sure I knew what to expect. I don't think I even knew who she was. A friend, whose name I can't remember, brought me along with her. What I do remember is it was a riveting experience. I was such an innocent woman, still a child in so many ways. I didn't know what homosexuality was until I was twenty one. Imagine. I wrote a paper on the Sun Also Rises and used the words impotent and emasculated as if they both meant the same thing. Needless to say I didn't do well in that class. The day I heard Gloria speak opened my mind in ways I hadn't realized were shut. She wasn't the first to point out the ways in which women lacked a voice in the world. But she was the most eloquent and elegant woman to speak out on our behalf.  In college, English literature classes were dominated by male authors. In fact I don't thin...

In the late 1980's, when my children were all teenagers, I decided I needed something to boost my self awareness, introspection, purpose. So I took a Wakeful Dreaming Workshop. If you've never heard of such a thing, you are not alone. The seminar took place in the family room of a Leader in Skokie, Illinois. I think there were only four of us, maybe six, a small group. One of us would lie down with our eyes closed while our partner asked questions to help us imagine a scene. "Is it warm, cold, sunny, rainy? Is anyone there? Do you see a path? Are there rocks?" And so on until the image you created in your mind provided a message for you to ponder. Then we would switch places so our partners had a chance to experience their dreams. It was a two day seminar with many different activities, one of which has had a lasting effect on me. At one point, I was walking on my path in my mind, daisies near the trees, a nice pond, a blue bird following me and the question I was ask...

 Every morning, I make a latte in my very old Nespresso machine that continues to limp along after providing me with coffee for nearly fifteen years. The frother died about five years ago so I purchased an inexpensive gizmo that does the job rather than buy a new machine. Sometimes I treat myself to a second or even third latte in the afternoon, which was my plan yesterday. Just as I was about to pour in the frothy milk, I knocked over the glass which broke, of course, and I had a clean up job which took a good ten minutes. I was aggravated with myself but not deterred. I filled the water dispenser, told myself to slow down and be careful and tried again. Unbelievably, I knocked over the completed latte this time so piles of milky foam floated on the countertop. At least the glass didn't break. If this had happened to someone else, I would have said "It's no bother. Don't be upset." But to me? Another ten minutes of clean up along with a great deal of scolding abo...

When I was a little girl, I never fit in with the popular crowd. My sister Sandy was ten years older and Eleanor six years older. They didn't give me the sibling support that they gave each other which made me something of a loner. There were other reasons of course. I was skinny and wore glasses from the age of two. My right eye turned in every other day which was something of a surprise to the many ophthalmologists my parents sought out. My mother could plan photography day for me weeks ahead, knowing which day my eyes would be straight. Finally, around my seventh birthday, Dr. Theodore Zekman agreed to operate and fixed that problem. But it was too late to stop the taunts from other children. I heard "four eyes" and "crazy eye" from other children which fostered caution in me. And a self image that has stayed with me, regardless of the facts. Childhood is a powerful experience that needs to be respected. A few weeks ago, I visited the nearby eye clinic to get...

Today is a celebration of sorts. I've posted every Saturday since August 9, 2025. No matter the weather, visitors or travel, I've kept my commitment to myself and by extension to you. Pondering what to write, what photo to select, whether what I have to say matters to anyone else are thoughts that flicker through my brain during the week. This fall, Saint Johns will implement The Eden Alternative to help alleviate loneliness, helplessness and boredom for those in my generation who find their purpose diminished. And, in spite of a healthy schedule of activities, I find this true for myself for which I have little patience. I learned, early on, that there was no feasible way to stop a toddler's temper tantrum. I just had to wait it out and then mop up the teary cheeks and fortify myself to say no, calmly, to whatever the tantrum was about. Likewise, managing teenagers requires buckets full of patience. But, today, impatience with myself and my capabilities has grown exponenti...

 My commitment to write a post every Saturday for a year, without fail, is coming to a close but I'm having too much fun to stop. I look forward to these mornings, pondering what I should share that others would enjoy reading. So I'll continue for the duration. Today marks a small milestone in my life. Three years ago, when Steve was still with me, we leased what was easily our tenth car. Once you start leasing, it's hard to switch to a purchase and Steve loved the new car appeal. But I thought, at the time, it might be a good idea to just buy what we'd been leasing and drive it into the sunset. But the young man who was helping us thought differently. "You are both in your 80's. In three years, you may not even want a car. Why don't you lease again and see how you feel in 2026."  At the time I thought that was a ridiculous notion. Of course I'll always want a car at my disposal. Why wouldn't I? I've had one since I was 21. A car felt like ...

Sometimes, like this morning, I have so many thoughts rumbling around in my head that it's difficult to focus. For one, the water and air shows are performing today. I'm not sure what the fascination is with hoses spurting water in circles is about, but apparently a number of people find it intriguing. This afternoon, the noise of the airplanes will frighten the birds and remind me of the millions of dollars spent on metal instead of human beings. But enough of my negativity. The silver lining for me this morning is that the constitution, combined with all the laws that have been passed during these last 250 years, is so complicated and convoluted, I'm convinced we will survive and thrive, but it may take some time.  Instead, I'll share a story that always makes me laugh. Mona Haslip began bringing students into her home after school and on the weekends to create art, music, literature in Hyde Park. Her dream of building a center for all these activities and more came t...

Steve loved to collect beautiful artifacts from a myriad of different realms. Antiquarian Silver, Natural Mineral Forms, Contemporary Art, American Scrimshaw and Asian Netsuke. Intrinsic beauty was the connection between them. As the collections outgrew our home, the idea to create a public viewing place was born. And in 1981, we purchased the dilapidated University Club in Evanston which gave us the opportunity to rebuild it. One room reflected Art Nouveau. Another Art Deco. A third Asian. Byer Museum of the Arts was born and open to the public in 1982. Why am I telling you this? Because recently my daughter Sarah and son-in-law Barry had some video films they uncovered in storage digitized so they could be viewed. And there among a film of Zoe's baby naming and Ben and Barry's trip to Jamaica was a film of the dedication for Byer Museum that no one knew existed. Seeing it was a trip back in time for me. The film is somewhat blurry and rambling but it was a treat to see so man...

Even on a beautiful morning of warm breezes and sunshine, I feel a heaviness in my heart. I should stop reading Richardson's emails because they are filled with the latest assault on our way of life that we've, unfortunately taken for granted for too long. But here we are, fighting an uphill battle to retain our rights. I'm a cultural Jewess as opposed to a religious one, which means I enjoy the traditions, foods, holidays, history and Yiddishisms. I have a mezuzah on my doorpost and often wear a Jewish star on a gold chain but my commitment to attend religious services often wans. But when the going gets tough, as it is now, I look for solace in my own historical past, and others, as the world has never been kind to my ancestors. There's a legend that originates in the Talmud (sacred, ancient religious teachings) that at any given time, there are 36 exceptionally righteous people who spare the world from destruction. They perform selfless acts of loving-kindness which ...

July is a strange combination of events for me. On the one hand, it's the month we lost Ben to ALS which is always a startling realization. Eighteen years ago yesterday. He'd waited ten months to be able to get a diaphragm pacer to help him breathe so he could spend more time with his son and less lying on the couch. We were so excited to see this happen for him but at that stage in his decline, minor surgery could become major which is what happened to him. A quiet ending for a spirited man. It's also my birthday month which is mostly positive, except when the number is the same as my father's in the last year of his life, it does give me pause. I'm celebrating in a strange way by giving up my car on the last day of the month. When I mentioned to my children that I was just thinking about it, to a person they all agreed this was a 'great idea.' I admit I was a little taken aback. Afterall, I'm a fairly decent driver, still comfortable on the highways, h...

Eight years ago, I had a bout with pneumonia and had to stay in bed for a month. At the time, I watched every episode of Call the Midwife and found it to be a compelling show, tackling some of life's challenges. As new seasons emerged, I spent a weekend binging. And now it has concluded so it was time to find a new show to watch. My new addiction is Silent Witness, also a British series that began in 1996 and is still going strong. Thirty years strong. That's 30 seasons with ten episodes each, which means there are 300 episodes. I've watched twelve seasons so far, seen my favorite actors leave and get replaced with new favorites. I just happened on it several months ago which was something of a lark. I do love a good crime drama, so I think that's what got my attention at first. For years I watched Law and Order, so I thought this would be similar. Not so. What makes this program so appealing is the story is told from the pathologist's perspective and we see the dev...

Some people are very private and share little of their inner angst.  There are certainly enough idioms to support this view. "Don't air your dirty linen in public." "Keep your skeletons in the closet." "Keep it behind closed doors."  There's dozens of them that encourage people to put on a happy face even though inside they might be feeling frightened or alone. And while that might be one road to take, I've usually taken the opposite trail. When Ben was diagnosed with ALS, I was beyond crazed. At the time, we lived in Dodgeville on one hundred acres. I remember hiking down to the meadow and screaming at the trees in frustration and anger. Afterwards, my throat hurt and I felt as miserable as I did before. I had a job as the Director of the Family Resource Center in Iowa County which brought me to town every day. I met neighbors and friends on a daily basis and as I walked around the town, whoever greeted me in the usual way of asking how I was,...

The first six summers of my life were spent in Union Pier, Michigan just over the Indiana border. I remember the air feeling like a warm blanket with cool breezes. I spent every day at the beach with my older sisters except for rainy, windy days. My father drove up on the weekends. The cottage we stayed in had literally two rooms and an outdoor shower. My mom swept the sand out in the morning and joined us at the beach with lunch. It was a mostly idyllic time. And here I am again, seventy seven years later, to see if what I remember is still true. The air and sunshine feels the same. We're in a three bedroom house with plenty of space to lounge, air conditioning and a screened in porch which my childhood self would have considered a palace. All those years ago, I ran down the wooden steps to the beach and threw myself into the water. Yesterday, I held the rail and worried my balance wouldn't hold on the sand walking to the water's edge. I brought two bathing suits that I do...

2019 I know I inherited my part of my attitude towards money from my Mom. Maybe my Dad too. They began their life together during the Depression.  A box in the roll top desk in the living room held envelopes filled with dollar bills to pay the doctor, dentist, rent, groceries. It was my mother's way of keeping track of what was owed. Nothing ever became overdue or was purchased on credit. When they retired and moved to Leisure World in California, my sisters and I were concerned they might not be able to afford the costs and we agreed if help was needed, we would all chip in. That's when we found out they had saved several hundred thousand dollars. How they did that remains a mystery to me but then they rarely took vacations or bought new furniture or clothing. What I never inherited was their frugality. Steve was successful in his career. I enjoyed buying new clothes, decorating at will, enjoying my leisure, traveling freely. I don't think I was careless or overly indulgen...

I've made a commitment to myself, my computer and most of all, to you. Every Saturday morning, I make a cup of coffee, enjoy my two pieces of raisin toast and sit down at my desk. Often I stare out the window at Lake Michigan, hoping some great idea will pop into my head. Rarely does that happen. On Wednesday, I begin to think about what I will write on Saturday, ponder many different topics, hoping one will stick.  Alice Munro was once asked why she only wrote short stories. "That's all I had time for," was her answer. With that in mind and all the time in the world, I thought I'd try my hand at a novel. It's been nearly a year now. I've had fun imagining different scenarios, making up drama, creating characters. But a knowledgeable editor has described my writing as too much telling, not enough showing, point of view problems and lack of dialogue. At first, I was crushed. In the past, I would have hunkered down to prove her wrong. It's been a few wee...

Several weeks ago, a young astronomer who couldn't have been more than twenty five years old, gave a presentation here at Saint John's about the current state of astronomy. In other words, what we know but also what we don't know, such as what came before the big bang and what exists beyond our universe and the many others that have been identified. What was the beginning and what is the end? Turns out, no one has any idea. The human mind is limited. We simply can't conceive of a constant continuum that has no beginning, middle or ending. Life just exists, always has and always will in some form or another. Forever. That thought is both unsettling and also freeing. It's changed my view about birth and death of loved ones. I've thought back to the night our son Ben died. I was there in the moment he drew his last breath and suddenly there was a rush, as if he couldn't get out of his wasted body fast enough. When my mother died, her bird breaths stopped in the...

I'm in Miami with my daughter Sarah, visiting my grandson Adam, who lives and works here, and his sister, Elizabeth, who flew down from New York to play with us. Of course they are the most wonderful human beings in the entire world, but I've been thinking about why being with them is so extraordinary, beyond the fact that they belong to me. One gift is that I've lived long enough to see them mature into full blown adults who treasure peace and love and appreciate for the many differences between people. These are the values I hoped to instill in my children and it's wonderful to see them in my grandchildren. I've also been thinking about the differences between our relationship with our children versus our  grandchildren. For one, we worry much less about the decisions they make about life plans, what school they attend, who their friends are, who they love and marry. We're still very much invested without the worry and concern. We leave that to their parents h...

Ben, Matt, Becky, Sarah and Josh Steve and I moved our family to Evanston the same summer as our fifth child, Rebeccah was born. About two years later, the social worker at Lincoln School, Ben Soltz, sent around a sheet asking anyone who wanted to join a mother's group to sign up. Eight of us joined and remained committed for years. I've come to think of that group as mothers mothering mothers. We were committed and rarely missed a Monday afternoon. Ben considered it his way of staying sane. I will be forever grateful for those years. One year, the day after Mother's Day, we shared our individual celebrations with each other. I never considered the holiday terribly important. A day that any of my children helped with the dishes or cleaned up their rooms was a treat. Still in my bed, I could hear the children scampering about and shouted, "Bring me my presents!" And they came running with handmade goodies they'd produced at school. Wanting to hedge my bets, I h...

I've always loved entertaining family and friends in my home. For nearly twenty years, I prepared dinner for seven people almost every day of the week. Then there were the dinner parties for twelve or the buffets for twenty. I've lost track. But I do remember putting together menus, standing in the kitchen for two, sometimes, three hours. Never gave it a thought. I don't remember complaining, so I know enjoyed it. I was a pretty good cook. No complaints except on the nights I was trying to use up leftovers creatively. And everyone remembers the brussel sprout cranberry disaster during Steve's vegetarian days. This past weekend, I prepared brunch for eight people, my daughter and son-in-law along with wonderful friends and two of their grandsons. Simple meal really of smoked salmon, bagels and a noodle casserole. And yet, I found the entire undertaking challenging. I planned my grocery store trips carefully, mixed up the noodles the day before, baked it that morning, set...

In 1997, our family welcomed the first two of our nine grandchildren into the world. Our daughter in law, Susan, delivered healthy, twin boys, Adam and Zachary into the world. Traditionally, a Jewish son has to be purchased from a Kohan, a priest, for five silver coins. Or gold perhaps. The service is called a Pidyon Haben. Our very wonderful friend Michael Kaplan (Z"L) performed this ritual for our son Matthew when he was born in 1967, and again for his son Adam as the first born of the twins. We used the same five coins for both.  By then our five adult children were living as far away as Seattle, Portland and Virginia, so reconnecting, sharing each other's news, became a major part of the weekend. Someone, I don't remember who, brought a copy of the book, The Cube ,  with them, thinking this would be a great game to play. And it was. A series of provocative questions are asked. I don't remember any of the questions, my answers or anyone else's, except one. Ben...

I'm not fond of the word widow. To me, it conjures up black robes, wrinkles and sadness. It's not synonymous with the word crone or wisdom, both of which I embrace wholeheartedly as the true inheritance of a woman who has lived well and past her prime. But I was searching for a word that might describe a woman who had recently lost her husband or partner; a person such as myself.  A grief group was not for me. Just the title depressed me. Between my son Ben and husband Steve, both of whom struggled for a long time with a fatal disease before their deaths, I'd had years of grief in my life and was looking for a way forward, through, and out of that heavy burden. Newly Single Women's Group is the phrase I conjured up to create a support group for those of us searching for new paths in our ever changing world. Being alone is not necessarily lonely, but it does require care and creativity. I wanted to know how others were managing this strange new world of singleness. What ...

We had a place in Dodgeville Wisconsin for several years, from 2000 to 2008. One hundred acres of walnut trees, meadows and a tiny stream. The house was just a few years old but in our usual fashion, we remade the entire interior, putting in a new kitchen, new bathrooms, finishing the basement - the works.  We added a mini barn so Steve could paint. The former owners had planted acres of trees that needed special care so we built a huge barn to hold the tractor that kept the trees weed free. The tractor was  enclosed with air conditioning and a CD player, a source of endless jokes for the neighborhood farmers.   I thought we would spend a month or two there in the summer, weekends occasionally in the winter, but our permanent base would be Chicago. By the end of the first summer, we'd sold our Chicago place mostly at Steve's request. I had no idea what full- time life would be like in the country but I was game for this new experience. After two months, I had second ...

I think everyone likes to feel needed and valued. I know that's true for me. Not so much when I was a little girl and my mother wanted me to set the table and clean up after dinner with my sisters. After the last bite of dessert, I would escape to the bathroom and hide in there until I was sure the last glass had been put back into the cupboard. When Steve and I married, we had each other to care for until the first of our five children arrived just seven years apart. I remember carrying an infant with a toddler wrapped around my leg. Part of me loved it and part of me thought I was being swallowed whole. But those years passed way too quickly. Maybe thirty years at most and we were on our own again.  And now, I am completely alone for the first time in my life. No children, no husband, no house to manage, although my handful of plants need water from time to time. I thought about getting a puppy but Wisconsin winters are not friendly for dog walking. And it would feel like a repea...

I've come to believe that optimism and resilience are two qualities that provide comfort as we age. At least that's true for me. Each morning feels like a gift now, not a day filled with tasks. I check to see if any of my plants have new buds, whether the lake is calm or filled with white caps and if a bird has landed on my deck. My joints ache sometimes and I can't walk as long and as fast as I used to. But I can walk and swim and read and write, so all is not lost. When Tina Turner sang, I Will Survive , I took those words to heart during those dark days we've all had. And here I am, at 82, still looking for the answers I thought I would know by now. But age has nothing to do with it. Life is filled with complexities and confusion that we will never understand. Being alone much of the time does not have to be lonely. It can provide time for introspection and acceptance.  There was a time when anger came swiftly. But now, I find, I haven't the time or the inclinati...

 I have made a decision to focus on joy and love and stop worrying. What was I worried about? Mainly the state of affairs in our country. But my worry and concern was draining me and in the end non-productive. I'm spending energy and time thinking about cherished memories of my childhood and life in general. In June, my daughter and I are spending a week in Union Pier. When I tell others about our plans, they invariably ask where is Union Pier? In case you, too, are wondering, it's in the southern tip of Michigan, just over the Indiana border. I spent whole summers there with my two sisters and my mom. Dad came on the weekends but had to stay in Hyde Park in Chicago during the week for work. Ours was just a two bedroom place, big enough for the five of us to sleep and eat. I was told that Sandy and Eleanor dug holes in the sand so my mom could lie on her stomach when she was nine months pregnant with me in the hot July sun.  I remember digging holes in the sand and squishing t...

Living in a community with so many people provides a fresh look at life. Many of my neighbors have friends they see regularly, having grown up together. I suppose living in Milwaukee their entire lives helps to keep those connections strong. Even though I spent much of my life in Chicago, the names and faces of childhood friendships have become blurred, connections mostly lost. It takes commitment and intention to remain in each other's lives for the whole journey.   You never know who you will meet along the way, who will come into your life and provide the safety net you need to survive and thrive. My good fortune came into my life when I met Jeanie in 1975. We  both had moved to Evanston, into houses a block away from each other. I thought, here is someone with young children, similar ages to my own. We have a lot in common. I like her smile. She has long hair like mine. Likes French jeans. Toddlers the same age. Boys going to the same school. Advice and care was there...

I've been thinking about my Dad a lot lately. He was a quiet, gentle soul. In fact I never heard him raise his voice to me or anyone else. If he was stressed about anything, he became very quiet. I'm sure there were things that angered him; I just never knew what that might be. Most of all, he was kindness personified. When I was a very little girl, maybe six or seven, I would crawl between him and the back cushions on the couch where we would nap together or listen to the radio. It was a place of safety and comfort for me. Whereas some of my friends were challenged by their fathers to get better grades and motivated to be the best in their career choice, my dad was satisfied with me as I was, am, would become.  Sometimes I wish he had dangled that carrot of accomplishment in front of my nose, pushed me harder, demanded more from his youngest daughter. I suppose being the only man in a houseful of women has a dampening effect on ambition. The fact is, I really didn't know h...

The mantra I woke up to this morning was, "If all else fails, start a war!" So Trump is now bombing Iran, even though peaceful discussions were underway which would have, most likely, led to a positive, peaceful conclusion. I find myself needing to turn the page, to look away, to stop focusing on the destruction surrounding us, and look to a better day. So I'd like to write about the last fifth of life, the years between the 80th birthday and the 100th. That's where I am at 82. I feel those years when I wake up in the morning and my neck and legs feel achy as I hobble into the bathroom. But then the day begins and I look forward to my coffee and raisin toast. And the New York Times games. And Lumosity, to see if my brain has slipped or has gained some traction. And then I decide how I'm going to pay for the air I breathe. It's a belief that each day is a gift and we need to pay for it by contributing something positive to our community and our family. I inheri...

 I created Burnt Chocolate over twenty years ago, shortly after our son Ben was diagnosed with ALS. After my first few posts Ben asked, "Don't you want to write about anything else?" I did actually, but I was consumed with his illness, worried for his future and felt ill equipped to handle this devastation. I forced myself to write about my children, grandchildren, interests, travel, but ALS often crept in unannounced to my commentary. That's how I feel today. I wake up and the first thing I do is read Heather Cox Richardson's essay and become consumed with the battering our country is taking. Then I read my neighbor, Vicky Shufton's post, and feel unhinged. My worries do nothing to change the situation. I've joined the protestors, written postcards but feel powerless. Blaming every issue on immigrants has become the scapegoat of the current administration. These are good people seeking a better way of life for themselves and their children. But they shoul...