My father, Clair Bernard, was a young man attending school during the Great Depression. On summers he left home for adventure and to look for work.

One year he was heading back home by hitchhiking. He was 300 miles from home when be ran out of money and was down to his last three cents. He was ravenously hungry. Up ahead was a small mom-and-pop cafe. He decided to take his chances and went into the cafe to scan the menu.

He saw that he had bad luck, since the cheapest item on the menu was oatmeal at five cents. The owner’s wife came over with her order pad. “I’ll take three cent’s worth of oatmeal, please,” he said

The woman was taken aback but then said, “Is that all you have?”

My father mumbled, “yes” and prepared to leave. The woman took her order pad and wrote “One Breakfast — three cents.”

My father filled his stomach with a full breakfast thanks to the kindness of this woman who was also struggling with the effects of the Depression.

Americans are like that. Years later when my father related this story there would often be tears in his eyes.

Bill Bernard