I watched bikers rebuild my elderly neighbor’s porch after his family abandoned him for bringing poor. His own children said they’d rather inherit his house when he dies t …

Harold called his three children. All successful. All living within fifty miles. All too busy to help their father.

His son Michael is a banker. Drives a Tesla. Lives in a $800,000 house. His response: “Dad, you should just go into a nursing home. This house is falling apart anyway.”

His daughter Jennifer is a real estate agent. She actually said, and I heard this through the window: “Dad, it doesn’t make financial sense to fix the porch. The house is worth more as a teardown. Just hold on a few more years and we’ll handle it after you’re gone.”

After he’s gone. She actually said that to her father’s face.

His youngest, David, is a software engineer. He sent a text: “Can’t help. Too busy with work. Maybe hire someone?”

Harold’s pension is $1,100 a month. The porch repair estimates were all over $15,000. He had $837 in his savings account.

I found Harold crying on his porch that evening, holding his wife Martha’s picture. “She’d be so ashamed,” he kept saying. “She’d be so ashamed of what our children became.”

I tried to comfort him but what could I say? His children had abandoned him. Decided his life was worth less than their inheritance. Decided letting him rot in an unsafe house was better than spending their money.

That’s when I remembered the bikers.

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