Today was one of those tough days that seem to happen all too often in corporate business; we had to let someone go.
To the powers that be, he was just simply a number on the payroll.
But as I sat there helplessly listening to the going back and forth, I started thinking about my conversations with him about his wife and him just purchasing their first home when they found out their first child was on the way.
I started to question who I had become and what happened to my own morals.
Back when I was a kid, old man Whitley and his family lived in a farmhouse on the furthest edge of town.
Due to them working sun up to sun down, we didn’t always see much of the Whitley clan in town, but as is par for the course, in a small town everybody knows everybody.
So the day that his farmhouse caught fire and they lost everything they had worked hard to earn, everyone sprang into action.
Millie’s Diner hosted a spaghetti dinner to raise funds to help.
The church took up an additional offering.
The man gathered up their tools and were on a mission to help rebuild.
The woman made casseroles so that the family never went hungry.
Everyone in town cleaned out their closets and gave them clothing.
As a kid, you don’t really realize what all of this meant; you just did as you were told to do.
But as I sit here today, watching as someone hangs their head, fills up a copy paper box with their personal belongings as they try to figure out what to do now, I can’t help but wonder what the people I grew up around would do to lend a hand and show him a true sense of community.