At work, there was a quiet guy named Paul who always brought the same plain sandwich for lunch. We teased him for it, and he’d just smile. When he quit, I helped clean his desk — and found a stack of children’s drawings: hearts, stick figures, “Thank you Mr. Paul,” and one of a man handing sandwiches to kids. Paul never talked about having kids. When I asked, he simply said, “Go to the West End Library around 6 p.m. You’ll see.”
So I went. There was Paul with a cooler and brown paper bags, handing out sandwiches to about fifteen kids — some homeless, some clearly struggling. “Most of them don’t get dinner,” he said. “So I make sure they get one meal a day.” Turns out those “boring lunches” weren’t for him — he made the same PB&J every morning for the kids. “Same sandwich every time,” he said. “No one complains.”....
