He stood there, gazing at the Salvation Army kettle on the town square. It was Christmas Eve, and my Uncle Mort – 106 and counting – solemnly offered a “mental salute” to the woman as she joyfully rang her bell. Frail of body and warmed only by a tattered coat given to the Army last year, she seemed resolved to help the less fortunate. Perhaps minding the kettle for last-minute shoppers as they joined the fray for final purchases was the noblest thing she could do. Mort choked up as he described the scene. The kettle-minder’s ringing set him to thinking about ...