I work with one gentleman who had been a prisoner in a Communist camp in Viet Nam, escaped, and had to steal clothes and food as he made his way to safety. He is one of the nicest people I have ever met. I mean, everybody loves him, he is so gentle and kind. I don’t know what demons haunt him at night, but he very much seems to be a man at peace with himself. It makes me embarrassed when I get mad about something petty, you know?