Dear Diary:
During the holiday season, my mind always goes back to when I commuted into Manhattan from New Jersey. At that time of year, as I reached Seventh Avenue after climbing the long flight of stairs or the escalator at Pennsylvania Station, members of the Salvation Army were always there to greet me, ringing their bells and urging me and hundreds of others to “give to the needy.â€
One particular year, an enterprising, bedraggled, bearded and very scruffy older man stood silently off to the side, cup in hand.
His sign said it all: “Cut out the middle man.â€
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