Two stories relevant to this week's letters:

1. My paternal grandparents were also frugal to the point of weirdness, sending boxes of unwrapped junk at Christmas and taking the bus to see us even though they could easily have afforded plane tickets. We always thanked them graciously even if jokes were made when the box was opened. I'm now 62 and the nest egg I'm hoarding is what remains of the nest egg they accumulated, compounded by my father's sound investments. There is much more to grandparenting than shiny toys.

2. I was a Legal Aid lawyer for many years. I, too, steeled myself for that inevitable question, "How can you defend those people?" So when I met, many years ago, the fiance of my sister's best friend and his first remark began, "I don't know if I could...." I expected the usual. Instead, Rich finished the sentence with, "I don't know if I could stand it if I lost a case where someone was innocent." Since I had just come off my first drug trial under the draconian Rockefeller drug laws--and, no, my young client wasn't innocent but he was a kid and his sentence was one year to life--the words washed over me like a healing balm. Someone, instead of judging the people accused of crime, understood the tremendous responsibility I felt having my client's life in my hands.

People who will not judge you or your clients are few, but precious. Find them and ignore the others.