A few days ago I was tooling along through a neighborhood on my wheelchair when I noticed a young boy sitting on the retaining wall in front of his house, crying as if his heart was breaking.

I pulled alongside the youngster and asked, “Son, what’s the matter? Why are you crying so?”

“I’m… cry… crying ’cause I can’t do what my 20-year-old brother does,” he said.

So I sat there and cried with him.