Because of my upbringing, I was always open to other’s people’s differences. My mother and father were not prejudiced at all, and Mom was what I call a “pioneer woman,” a strong female who is not afraid to hammer a nail, lift a load or stand up for what is right. I always tried to be helpful to the helpless and friendly to the friendless. My earliest recollection of this was when I was in  third grade at the George S. Ball Elementary School. There was a boy in our class who was very poor. He lived in a small house with a lot of other brothers and sisters. As I recall, the windows didn’t even have glass in them, just clear vinyl, and it had a dirt floor. Because his clothes were ragged and he rarely bathed, he was constantly being teased and tormented by his classmates. One day my teacher, Mrs. Trask, called my mother to let her know that this young boy had come to her saying that he couldn’t take the teasing anymore. She confirmed, “All of the children?” He said, “All of them except Marc. He is the only one who is nice to me.” Mom said she was so proud of me and knew I had a good heart. But deep down inside, I knew what it felt like to be teased and I truly empathized with the boy.

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