Our neighbors, the Millers and the Johnsons, were engaged in what we call a �generosity war�. As much as we don�t talk about it, everyone knows that you can�t refuse a request (that is, a neighborly request). Anything anyone asks of you, you are to give �with a generous spirit�. Well, generous spirit aside, the Millers (or the Johnson, I can�t remember which), had asked something of the other family that was just... too much I am not sure any of us noticed until we saw the Johnson boy resodding the Miller�s lawn. Then we saw the Millers pulling up and reapplying the Johnson�s roof. That was when everyone heard about the sprinkler system, the trips to the hair salon, the new truck in the Johnson�s garage and, of course, the puppy. That is why, when Mr. Johnson walked across the street to the Miller�s house with a bright and perfect smile on his face, everyone else�s face was pressed up against the window. What we he going to ask for next? Most people had bets on asking Mr. Miller to dig a hole for a pool, but I secretly hoped that he would put an end to it and ask for some books or something. That was the only way to end something like that. You had to ask for something small, and then everyone knew you weren�t trying to one-up each other anymore. That was just how things went.

�Get out of the way, Honey,� my mother hissed, �I can�t see.�

�Mom!� I complained, �If you do that, I can�t see, either.�

�Oh my god� there he is. I can�t hear from here. Do you think anyone can hear what he�s saying.�

The doorbell rang. I groaned and got up from my place on the loveseat. My dog barked viciously and then calmed down. I went to the door and opened it.

�Hello,� I said, looking out.

There was a boy at our door. He was a little dirty, but I could recognize his face from school. They lived at the edge of the village and they never asked anything of anybody. He looked upset and his face was stained with tears. He took a piece of paper and handed it to me. He had obviously written it himself, the letters were all strange and I almost couldn�t read them.

�To the Whites. We are the Halifaxes. We know that we shouldn�t ask you to help us, but we have fallen on some pretty hard times. You have always been nice to us, otherwise, we would have asked someone else," I read aloud.

�The truth is, our father is sick. The doctor says that he could live if he had the money to pay for the surgeries, but that they don�t have the money or the time to operate without it,� I continued.

�Oh no! Janice, don�t finish that letter. Don�t you dare,� my mother said, suddenly looking up from the window.

I looked up at her, puzzled, �It says, �Can you help pay for it�.�

�No!� my mother howled.

�What?� my father said, coming in from the kitchen.

�She asked it! She asked it. I can�t believe this. We don�t have the money for this? Honey, how are we supposed to do this?� my mother wailed. The Johnson/Miller feud seemed to be utterly forgotten.

�What is it?�

�The Halifaxes are asking us to help pay their medical bills,� my mother groaned.

My father frowned deeply, his face was trouble. Finally, he shrugged, �We�re the Whites. Whites are generous people.�

�No, honey. Please. There has to be another way,� my mother whispered rapidly.

�I don�t know what to say, sweetheart. It IS neighborly. We can�t say �no�.� my father said, �Tell you father that we accept.�

The Halifax boy ran down the street.

�I�m going to have to get a part time job,� my mother raged, �Do you remember the last time? We can�t afford this!�

�We can�t afford not to, Heather,� my father said, �Calm down. We�ll figure it out.�

I peaked out the window, �Mother, milk!�

�What?!� my mother said, pressing her face against the glass, �I can�t believe it. After all the hours it took them to re-sod, and the car� I can�t believe it.�

My father chuckled, �I�m driving over to the Halifaxes place. Janice, you want to come with?�

I shrugged. I might as well give it a shot.

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