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The scent of white frosting, ice cream punch, newly-green grass, and new toys was Heaven to an eight-year-old birthday princess. The park was alive with the sounds of laughing children, the creaking of aging play equipment, and the proud and loving murmur of adult voices. My party table was lined with beautifully-wrapped gifts, so many that they carried over to another picnic table. I had prayed for an Atari, the 1982 video game equivalent of the modern-day Nintendo Wii. On that perfect May afternoon of blue skies and blooming wildflowers, there was absolutely no gift that could top the Atari, except selflessness, in the form of a thirty-cent candy bar.

Jason was one of my best friends. We sat by each other at school. We shared Crayons, Elmer's Glue, excitement over Saturday morning cartoons and the Charlie Brown Halloween special, and just about everything else two first and second-graders could share. If we had any activity that called for a partner, Jason always looked for me, in class or on the playground. That was friendship in seven-year-old terms. I was only vaguely aware that his family didn't have much money. At that age, friendships are based on genuine liking for another person, not manmade concepts that divide society, such as social status.

When Jason's mother died unexpectedly, I was very sad for the family. That quickly turned to concern for my own Mom, as I came to the realization that Bambi wasn't the only one who could lose his mother. Children could lose theirs, and if Jason could lose his mother, I could lose mine. We didn't talk about it at school. I don't know why Jason didn't mention it, but for my part, I was afraid I would make him cry, if I said I was sorry about his mom.

My eighth birthday party wasn't too many months after that. Jason had no mother to buy birthday gifts for his friends, no mother to make him a snack when he got home, no mother to see that he got a good supper if he missed his snack. His family had little if any money to spare for gifts. Even so, this child who had so little and lost so much, was willing to give everything in his possession, to a little girl who already had more than she ever deserved. On that afternoon, thirty cents was the sum total of everything Jason had to his name, it was supposed to be his snack money, and he spent it on my favorite candy bar from the snack machine at our school.

A mutual friend with good intentions "warned" me about the gift in advance. I think he was afraid I would consider it

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