[QUOTE=pinkfreud]
The proprietor, Mr. Miller, took pride in the neighborhood, and the Miller family knew everyone by name. Anyone from the neighborhood was welcome to buy things on credit, at no interest, and pay back when they were able. If you fell on really hard times and couldn’t afford to pay at all, Mr. Miller would give you food for free.
[/QUOTE]
Times have certianly changed, and not in a good way.
My aunt used to own a little country store which sold gas, groceries, and had a side-business of selling heating oil. My aunt was a tender-hearted soul, and couldn’t stand to hear of people not having the things they needed. I don’t think she ever sold any baby formula-- she’d give it to people who said they couldn’t pay and just asked them to repay her when they could. She did the same with groceries, gas and heating oil.
Unfortunately, people* didn’t *pay her back. They just kept coming for more. They sucked her dry. It was ultimately her fault, of course, in that she couldn’t say no to people who said they were in need, and she was dumb enough to believe in the ultimate goodness of the human heart. She was certain if she ever was in need, they would help her.
Little by little, she went broke. A few years ago, there was a horrible cold snap and fuel oil prices were through the roof. People came to her, begging for help, saying they couldn’t afford to heat their homes. That year, she kept the entire community warm, delivering filling people’s tanks in exchange for I.O.Us. A few did make payments, but the vast majority made no effort whatsoever to repay her.
The day came when her gas tanks went dry and there was no money to refill them. The suppliers hadn’t been paid for he groceries which they had sold her. She had nothing. Everything was gone, sucked up by the community who watched with utter indifference as she went bankrupt.
As I told my husband, this story should have ended like It’s a Wonderful Life, with the whole community rallying around her in her dark hour. They did not.
After she died, we found boxes and boxes full of the I.O.Us, some decades old, along with about $20,000 in bad checks, which she had declined to prosecute if the people told her they had made a mistake and would repay her. Those bits of paper, those empty promises, were all that she had in the end.
Her household goods were auctioned. True hatred is a very ugly emotion, and I swam in its icy depths as I watched the same parasites buy the tattered shreds of her life for pennies on the dollar. I still cannot completely rid myself of the anger.