Ever since we left Myrtle Beach I've been
But today I realized that my idea of "cold" is minor compared to that of the men I saw huddled underneath a railroad bridge this morning as we drove to the pancake house for breakfast. Some of the men were standing, others were covered with blankets and pieces of cardboard, laying on a narrow stretch of wet sidewalk right next to a busy six lane roadway not far from downtown Dayton. These men don't have the choice of buying new sweatshirts for warmth, or refilling propane tanks to run the furnace or even getting into a warm truck to drive out for a hot meal, because they have nothing at all.
Thanksgiving suddenly means so much more to me this weekend.