Lately there has been much wringing of hands and hearts about our lost American Dream.
Dwindling jobs…dwindling growth…dwindling hope due the obscene division between rich and poor. Where was our vaunted Middle Class? Where was our traditional passion for success?
I hardly thought the knock on my front door would be the answer. But it was. There, as Shakespeare might have described him, was the “lean and hungry look” of a new 30-something financial adviser in our community. A community already crowded with chain stores and branch banks, all headquartered in some New York skyscraper
However, Peter stood there with a single briefcase, a modest smile, and the same eagerness that had once allowed covered wagon trains to conquer the West.
I don’t know if I’ll use Peter’s services, but by God he filled my front stairs and flagging heart with the sort of hope for America they used to write about..
So I am!
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