My ophthalmologist’s optician’s grandfather came to this country from Greece. To New York. This is a great country, and he got a job digging. They were building the New York City subway. Before World War I.
He was young. He spoke no English. He didn’t know what the hell they were doing, he was just digging in the street.
He thought they were digging for gold.
Every day he’d scoop up a little dirt and stick it in a handkerchief to take home. At home, he would sift through the dirt looking for specks of precious metal. He had been told the streets were paved with gold.
I don’t know if this is a true story. It seems to me I’ve heard it before, so maybe it’s just one of those that goes round and round. But my ophthalmologist’s optician heard it from his father and believes it to be true. That’s good enough for me.
This is a great country, full of hopes and dreams and stories. I tell you this to provide a heartwarming break in my relentless assault on Bob Dole’s curious 15% tax-cut proposal.
Tomorrow: 15% of What?
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Don't mistake endurance for hospitality.~needlepoint on a guest room pillow
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