A woman in a class I was teaching once asked a favor of me. The community where she lived had an unfortunate ordinance, which could result in her losing the lease on her home. Cary had joined with other residents to lobby for the policy’s repeal. She asked if I would be willing to write a letter to the town council urging this change. I told her I’d be glad to help, and promised to get the letter off quickly.
         The following week I caught the flu, and then, with other pressures, never got around to fulfilling my promise . . .

“How can I take all your money, and leave you broke and penniless?”
         Greg Lukens welcomed me to his warehouse with his standard greeting. I liked him the moment I met him. He knew I would be spending more than pocket change there, and he had defused my anxiety that.
         If you had accompanied me that day, you might not have noticed anything unusual about Greg’ world until you entered his office. I watched in astonishment as Greg sat down at his desk to type out an invoice on his computer--a computer consisting of a keyboard, tower and speakers . . . but no monitor . . .