Earlier this week my husband and I took our kids to a homeless shelter in Milwaukee we donate to regularly to give them bags of new socks, underwear and gloves. These gifts will be wrapped and given to the homeless guests at a party in a couple of weeks.
"We always joke about getting socks as gifts, but these people really will be happy to unwrap them," my daughter said when we got in the car.
It truly is something to ponder...how setting aside 24 hours to be thankful in our fortunate country is apparently too much to ask for. Instead, Thanksgiving is now spent perusing ads, discussing a list of "needs" to fight the crowds for, and then, long before the sunlight fades, clearing the table and packing into the malls.
And all the while there are people around us who would be thrilled to receive socks.
"'Socks are Dobby's favorite, favorite clothes, sir!' he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle Vernon's. 'I has seven now, sir. But sir ...' he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, 'they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!'" - J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
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