As I’ve grown older, I’ve also mentioned that I’ve become increasingly fascinated and more appreciative of those who fought so hard to give us the freedoms we enjoy today. Through countless articles and documentaries, I’ve tried to envision what it must have been like to be in the heat of the battle and the unquestionable sacrifice and bravery it took to leave loved ones behind and answer the call to serve their country. However, as much as I tried to grasp the intimacy of that experience, once I closed the book or came to the end of that documentary, I was safely home again, and my only scar was the bad dream I had just experienced.

Maybe it is because most of my generation didn’t have to fight a war, and unwittingly we’ve passed a certain naiveté and complacency down to the next generation. We don’t hear about sacrifice but more about entitlement. We don’t celebrate our similarities but focus on our differences. The teams we picked in dodgeball are far different from those we choose today, where color, political beliefs, and “my way is better than yours” are the deciding factors.

Then you have Betty White, who has touched the hearts of so many with her sense of humor and ability to teach us not to take ourselves too seriously. She became more like that family member or confidant you knew you could trust through her many roles. To me, she was that little bit of sugar that gave us a respite from the negativity we are bombarded with each day.

Then you have others that come into your life that touch you in ways you can’t put into words. To me, that person I’ll refer to as “Howard,” a client who became a good friend.

Howard and I shared almost nothing in common, and he had a strong opinion on everything. He could sound like Archie Bunker at times, other times just an old curmudgeon. Politically we couldn’t have been further apart, although he often said to me, “I can’t figure out what side of the aisle you’re on.” He hated phonies and often would say Realtors were like snake oil salesmen, but he always ended his comment with, “but I like you.” He started his day with his vodka and orange juice which he kept flowing throughout the day, yet kept up with the stock market and loved his sports and passion for sailing. I often would tease him that one day I was going to find he embalmed himself on his couch with a cocktail in hand, to which he would reply, “then you’ll have another house to sell.” However, despite living by himself with his cat and only having a few close friends, there was something about him I liked. Maybe it was our fun verbal sparring sessions or just his unabashed outlook on life, but somewhere under his crusty exterior was someone special. Over the years, he spoke of a few loves in his life, but mostly it was just a recounting of a simple life that seemed ordinary at best. However, it wasn’t until his recent passing that another life lesson was about to unfold. Unbeknownst to me, Howard had a passion for children with terminal illnesses and left most of his healthy financial portfolio to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. When I heard this news from one of his close friends, I thought to myself, “without any mention or desire for the recognition, he made a lasting impact on the life of others.” I was stunned by this man’s passion for something he never spoke about.