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Another Side to the Hoffman Story
By Susan J. Coppola, Winchester
I'm sure you have heard the story told
Of a woman, whose house burnt down not so long ago.
Out of pocket her son began his quest:
A house for his Mom,
There would be no rest.
A handful of friends stood strong by his side,
Watching him as he relentlessly never loses his stride.
Well, donated town's money was never allowed to him, you see,
As he silently thanks those who tried but could not foresee
That all of the money would lay there to rest
While lawyers and towns officials fight over its ownership.
The money dwindling, the son digs so deep
Into pockets full of love with hope to keep.
A loan he does take
And the journey begins,
Ninety days he is given, the pressure begins.
A handful of friends working hard every day—
They drop in one by one, just lending a hand.
No money has he, this son works night and day,
Hands swollen and split from the cold and the rain.
Three days with no sleep, just his Mother in mind,
It's winter now and a house she does need—there's no time.
Many hardships have we seen—him, his friends and me—
I took a fall and broke my leg
And I am here with a need to say,
In all his hardships, long hours, and short trust,
This man finds the time to donate to me.
He came and he stacked all of my wood.
I thank him for his lesson, and I hope you all see,
Community love should always be
An unconditional giving of each other—
This is our destiny, I hope you see.
No price can be put on the friends who stop by
To lend us a hand and never ask why.
Trust from the lenders is hard to come by,
I hope that my words may have opened one eye …
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