Paving That Well-Intentioned Road (or Make Sure You Have Plenty of Milk)
Decades later, I comprehend my anger in a way that I was too close to before. My well intentioned sharing was transactional. I gave the guy a bagel and wanted in return gratitude and a sense of my own virtue.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”