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ABC, Easy as 1,2,3. How I loved the Jackson Five and watching their dancing and spinning, wishing I could do the same. I love all the sixties Motown music and some very cheesy seventies songs. With many incorrectly memorized lyrics, as google was but a flicker in someone's brain, solo sing-a-longs release my stress in the car - with some bringing on a tear or two. "The Night Chicago Died" has tears forming just last week. What! That doesn't even make sense. Next. No way can I listen to "Seasons in the Sun" as I need to arrive to work appropriately, not with streaks of mascara running down my face. Click. Click. Click. Bring on some Aerosmith.

Tearing up comes easily for me - no control, just too sensitive. Sitting with Jeff and Jordan the other night. Jeff says the roommate told him, "No one has ever done anything that nice for me before". Huh? The tears begin to flow. Thank goodness Maria and Lucas are still in the kitchen preparing the last details of our delicious dinner.

It was nothing special. It was nothing difficult. We brought Travis burgers, from a favorite diner a few blocks away, for my mom and her roommate, Janet. Wrapped in wax paper to steam the buns, the fried burgers are smothered with grilled onions. Casey, our friend who now lives in Ireland, is wishing and salivating about now. After dinner we bring plates of leftovers for each of them just in case their rehab center dinner was subpar again. Chardonnay for my mom and a Vodka Tonic for Janet, plus a vase of flowers is packed for each. Unfortunately, sleep prevents Janet from all but the flowers. The next morning, Jeff drops some homemade chocolate chip cookies for each of them while I am at work. He has provided snacks and treats and help to the rehabbers more than me this past month - my perfect partner of forty-four years.

Most of us will never be up for a Nobel Peace Prize yet if we all try to offer little bits of help routinely, the world could be a more peaceful place for all. Don't hold back.