A little random fact about my dad:

He can make friends with just about anyone.  I mean, anyone.  While walking down Main Street in Houston a few nights ago, a young homeless man (with a very foul mouth) approached me and my parents.  He told us that he wanted some money for a beer, but instead of giving him anything, my dad asked the man his name and proceeded to make conversation.  Mom and I walked quietly behind as "White Mike" -- the name that he called himself -- shared his brief but unfortunate story of cocaine addiction.  He looked to be in his mid-20's, only a few years older than me.  Dad continued to ask him personal questions and listened to the answers with the utmost respect.  If I wouldn't have known any better, I might have thought that they were old friends.  When we arrived at our chosen dinner spot, I waited for my father by the entrance as he pulled a couple dollars out of his pocket and said goodbye to his new friend, after politely suggesting that he start looking for a job.  There's no doubt in my mind that the young man used the money to buy himself more alcohol.  But my dad's reply to this was, "Well, at least he was honest."