His wife Lorraine fell in love with them. Could not hug them enough and do enough for them. For the next 25 years, they sent the boys expensive Christmas presents, every single Christmas. Compare that result with a customer of mine in Miami. In the Latin culture, a male child can yell and scream and raise all the hell he wants. One such kids father made considerable money with me. I dropped him for no other reason than his unruly son making any conversation or negotiations next to impossible. In Orlando, at the Tropicana Resort, where I had 25 rental units, I met a Black lady. Unusually good looking, and very well built. But that did not influence me to rent her an apartment. She seemed quite refined. Came from Colorado. Not speaking in the usual gutter dialect. She had no car, so I volunteered to drive her wherever she needed to go. For at least a couple months. Me eventually meeting her two teenage daughters. It came as quite a surprise to hear their ghetto speech. Probably from having lived with their father. It shut me right down. Saying not one word more to them than necessary. One night they desperately needed to go somewhere. That somewhere turned out to be a hundred miles away. The mission: To pick up a boy, about twenty, they had just met a week earlier in Orlando. Him coming back to live with them. He had obviously never been in the Boy Scouts. No problem if he did not like me for being a Honkey. Upon stepping into the van, he totally ignored me. What would happen if the girls mother asked me to take him somewhere. Had he only said: “Good evening Sir.” The answer would be; ‘sure.’ It did not happen. But had it, the answer would be; ‘sorry, I’m busy.’ For the hundred mile ride return, I have the mother, two girls and the boy in back. Clowning, loud, raucous, so disturbing I almost stopped to toss them all out. Of course, after dropping them off, there was not one more mile spent on those people, the kids costing their mother her free taxi service. Of course, there is no shortage of ill mannered undisciplined children. But I do not recall a single time in Public, where I have seen a Black family, with the children jumping up and down, tearing around, tearing around, yelling nd screaming, knocking things off store shelves, with the parents not saying a word. I was on the phone with my son, when three kids came running down the stairs I was on my way up. Screaming so loudly, I could not hear the phone. I looked over and said exactly this; nothing more; “hey kids, can you keep it down a little.” Just then, their big fat mammy, looking like she would be able to tear my head off, came over the top, snarling; “don’t you dare talk to my chilens like dat!!” At that point, one of the sons, appearing to be about ten, came over and punched me in the stomach. My son heard the whole incident so I had to listen to his diatribe; “when are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?” I did not need to be in that car that killed five people to know that the children were raising enough hell to distract the driver. The news footage showed the wide open intersection, no obstructions, no excuse for there to have a collision. So which way of raising children is better. Mine or theirs. For anyone still reading, allow one more comment. Through all my disciplinary tricks, which were very few, I not only did not raise my voice, I became even more quiet. When I hear parents yelling and screaming at their kids, I can’t help wondering what psychological problems they have. In my case for an example, when one saw his siblings going out the door, which happened to be the ‘Great Scott’ to an event he had been uninvited to, what chance is there that he would ever again do what got him barred. When in McDonalds, I see kids running around making unbearable noise, jumping from table top to table top, with the parents sitting there. One night, a woman with two unruly girls, I could not help going over: “Mam, right now, outside, there is a sight that happens every hundred years. Your daughters might be interested.” And there really was. Venus, just as bright and clear as can be. They were about to get a lesson on how to tell the difference between a star and a planet, when the mother very snotily rebuked my ploy with, “naw, they’re not interested in that stuff.” Hard to believe such a parent exists. Had it not been my experience I’d not believe it. Anyone else not believing can talk to an amature astronomer. This took place no more than two years ago. My quiet nature when in the discipline mode, was probably due to my German background. There is no noise in Germany. The only noise in a city is the little tinkling sound of a street car bell and the swoosh of air when a 300 MPH train, that makes no noise, flashes by. Quite the opposite in America when stopped at a light, with the next car over vibrating and bouncing to the RAP sounds and some cultured, refined gentleman comes into a restaurant, spotting someone he knows on the other side of the dining room, and yells, to then begin an extended conversation that makes holding a quiet conversation for all the other diners impossible. Is there a possibility that such people will wake up one day and realize whaat such behavior is costing them.