I pity anyone within earshot of my voice whenever I see our grandbabies. They elicit pure joy in me. My voice rises to such an annoying pitch that the dog starts barking.
Years ago, I read a story about a woman who brought joy to thousands of strangers while working in a large department store in New York City. For 30 years, her job was to sit outside the fitting room of the lingerie department and count the items each customer carried in and out. She’d often accompany women in finding the correct size and fit for their undergarments. Many were cancer survivors who had endured radical mastectomies.
