I have always felt I owed a large debt of gratitude to a man named Bob Abramson, a small retail store owner who interviewed a bearded, long-haired college student in the 1970s and took a chance putting him to work selling cameras, art supplies and picture framing services. I was that student. At the time, the job meant hours more compatible with my studies (and a workplace closer to school) than the weekend and late night kitchen shifts I had been working for a local caterer. I also ...

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