A Lesson in Integrity

My doorbell rang at 7 AM on a freezing Saturday. I was annoyed. Outside,

a foot of snow buried my Ohio street. I’m Frank, retired, with bad knees.

My first thought was an emergency. My second was a salesman. I opened the door

to two shivering boys, maybe 12 and 14, in thin jackets. They held shovels;

one handle was wrapped in duct tape. “Can we shovel your driveway? Twenty dollars,”

the older one said. Twenty dollars for my long driveway? It was a brutal job.

Their faces weren’t hopeful; they were desperate. I agreed. I watched them work.

They had a system, working silently and hard. The younger one sat down,