When I was about six months old, my parents decided to take us out to dinner. When we arrived at a local spot, the dining room was full, so the hostess offered a table in the barroom. My parents figured that since the barroom was near the door, we could go quickly if I started crying. Sure enough, I started screaming as the entrees arrived, so my mom picked me up and walked toward the exit. A man at the bar got up and stood in her path. “I’ll take the baby. You enjoy dinner,” he said, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He held me in his arms and walked up and down the length of the bar while my parents and sister ate.  For the first time, my parents felt they were welcome and had support in our community. That moment was important for everyone in the bar that night—the patrons saw that it was okay to bring a child like me out to a restaurant and it was okay to lend a hand.