The American dream has never really been about 48,000 square foot homes and private jets and conspicuous consumption. The American dream, truly, is about opportunity. About the middle class that created the backbone of this great nation…the dream to have a good home and family and friends and to be able to sleep at night. As Norman Rockwell’s poster tribute to FDR’s Four Freedoms aptly capture it, the opportunity to go to bed at night knowing your children are safe and sound. It’s that simple. Greed isn’t the American Dream. Greed isn’t good. It’s a cancer on our society, and it’s fast destroying our once mighty middle class. Let’s reverse it. Merry Christmas to all, Waylon Lewis, ed.

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George Bailey: Just a minute… just a minute. Now, hold on, Mr. Potter. You’re right when you say my father was no businessman. I know that. Why he ever started this cheap, penny-ante Building and Loan, I’ll never know…

But neither you nor anyone else can say anything against his character, because his whole life was…why, in the 25 years since he and his brother, Uncle Billy, started this thing, he never once thought of himself int’d that right, Uncle Billy? He didn’t save enough money to send Harry away to college, let alone me. But he did help a few people get out of your slums, Mr. Potter.

And what’s wrong with that?

Why… here, you’re all businessmen here. Doesn’t it make them better citizens? Doesn’t it make them better customers?

You… you said… what’d you say a minute ago? They had to wait and save their money before they even ought to think of a decent home.

Wait? Wait for what? Until their children grow up and leave them? Until they’re so old and broken down that they…

Do you know how long it takes a working man to save $5,000? Just remember this, Mr. Potter—that this rabble you’re talking about…they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath?

Anyway, my father didn’t think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they’re cattle.

Well in my book, my father died a much richer man than you’ll ever be.

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