I sat in my husband’s Avalon on the I-75 South exit ramp and Highway forty-one in Georgia. The man outside forty feet to the left of me put his black duffle bag and backpack on the snow-covered grass. He got out a cardboard sign that looked as though it had been made from the end of a box. When he held it up, I couldn’t see enough of it to tell if it read, “Will work for food,” “Please help,” or “Need a ride.” He wore a pair of blue jeans, tennis shoes, a beige jacket and a matching cap with ear flaps. I doubted he would be able to stand the frigid, twenty-six-degree temperature for long. But a woman in a sporty, red car stopped in traffic beside him rolled down her window and motioned for him. He hurried to her, leaned down, commenced to point and give directions! And no, she never put her hand out the window to give him anything! Just out of curiosity I Googled “The Golden Rule” to see if it still existed. Yep, it’s still around, and the meaning given was basically the same as I had
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