 A couple of months ago in my travels, I stopped at a gas station. As I was leaving, a man walked out with a beard. He looked very stressed. He got in his car, and I could see him holding an envelope. My heart dropped, because years ago, I held one just like it. It was bankruptcy papers. I could see the fear on his face. And it took me back to lying awake at night with that gnawing worrying, debating which bills weren't going to get paid.