The money I pay for my cultural experiences came willingly from my own pocket - they were not the result of bread being removed from the mouths of the poor so that Miss Thing here could mince off to the circus smelling of roses.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement who can tolerate not knowing... not healing not curing... that is a friend who cares.
