If you’re old and living in America, especially in South Florida, you’ll recognize my caller’s words: “Grandpa, I need help.” Calamity seems to torment my purported grandchildren. Three times, they’ve called to plead for emergency help of the pecuniary kind. My progeny needed money. And they needed it fast. Details of their respective tribulations varied, but their entreaties ended with the same bottom lines. Grandchild One was marooned in Mexico, where her cash and credit cards had been stolen. Grandchild Two was languishing in some faraway jail on a trumped-up charge and was in urgent need of bail. Grandchild Three’s car had broken down in the rural hinterlands.