“My grandparents taught me that Nordic gods and heroes were not so different from Christian saints,” I replied, realizing it would anger him. “In my opinion, the real heroes are workers trying to make it another day against incredible odds. You’re a large employer who knows the problems daily life throws at working stiffs. A rich man like you has endless freedom to keep your head high above all the rest. They keep their heads low because their wallets are empty and their freedom restricted. I have no illusions that my freedom to gamble comes from rent I charge the poor stiffs at the roadside.”
Rattled by my empathy for roadside riff raff, he squinted his bloodshot eyes and became animated. It was pointless impressing upon him that behind my criticism of the rich was lingering guilt that p
