My parents were the children of immigrants. They clipped coupons, preferred used cars to new ones, bartered over prices and often remarked at restaurants that my mother could have made the same dish, only better, for a fraction of the cost. Especially if it was Italian food. When my father began fading, he took many falls but never wanted to pay for an ambulance ride. One night, he fell and couldn’t get up, and my mother got down on the floor next to him and pulled a blanket over them.

Source: Los Angeles Times January 19, 2019 17:03 UTC