I was born on December 14, 1946, and raised in the bucolic village of Lansing, Iowa, which then and now has a population of around one thousand hardy souls. Before air conditioners and television, everyone stayed outdoors as much as possible during the summer months. We all knew those residing near us, and being considered a good neighbor was important. Lansing had no police officer (or traffic light for that matter), and no government social nets existed. But more vulnerable citizens were closely watched, and even those who had little shared their meager lot with others in acute need. Despite many being hardworking, highly motivated WWII veterans, everyone struggled financially, yet somehow managed to get by. However, there were rare exceptions to this latter situation, and I believe one such anomaly at least partially explains the core of my story. When I completed seventh grade, my 11 schoolmates and I had been together since kindergarten. But at the beginning of eighth grade, a new student, Joyce T., joined our ranks. None of us knew her …