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“That’s more like it.” the man said. He then plopped down $30 on the table, and picked the fudge back up. “Keep the change,” he said. A man in our community had had a farming accident, and while he was in the hospital struggling to live, our community was having a fund raiser. It was spring, one of our busiest times of the year, but all work was set aside. Everyone was doing whatever they could to support the family and help them defray the hospital costs. Everyone donated something. Women had brought hand tied quilts and lots of baked goods. I brought books. Others brought paintings. Farmers brought potatoes, gravy, beef, and all the fixings. A meal was five dollars, but, more than once, I watched as people plopped down a hundred dollar bill, and then left before change could be tendered. When my family finished eating, I purchased a pie and some cookies, and then we joined others in the auditorium for the auction. The auctioneer held up a painting, and began his singsong bidding. “How much will you give me for this painting? Who will give me a 50 dollar, dollar? 2