Mount Pleasant, South Carolina—Jeff found a wiry haired dog. He was blind, deaf, and nosing around behind a Hardee’s dumpster. After Jeff took the little fella home, he bathed him, clipped the knots from his fur, and fed him ground beef with melted cheese on top.

Lucky dog.

Later that night, the dog curled up on Jeff’s lap while he watched television. Jeff said, “I must’ve pet that little guy for three solid hours. I didn’t even get up to use the bathroom, didn’t wanna wake him.”

When Jeff finally got up for bed, the dog’s eyes had already rolled back into its head.

“I cried,” said Jeff. “Almost like I’d owned him my whole life. I’m just glad his last day was a good one.”

Chamblee, Georgia—if you ever see a ’77 Oldsmobile that looks like it’s two steps from the junkyard, complete with duct-taped interior, it’s Rick’s car.

“I got this Olds’ when I graduated,” said Rick. “They last forever.”

A few years ago, Rick started offering the beater to people who needed help. If they wanted to borrow the car, all they had to do was sign up on a list.

“You know,” said Rick. “Lotta of people in my neighborhood don’t have cars. Thing is, you can’t BUY a car unless you can go to work. It’s just logic.”

That’s one word for it, Rick.

Birmingham, Alabama—underprivileged children have a hard time finding food, let alone healthy options. A steady diet of frozen pizzas, chocolate bars, ramen noodles is a sure-fire way to get malnourished.

Five-year-old Miles decided to do something. He donated vitamins and supplements to a local food bank. Other people joined him—so did one health food store.

“Vitamins aren’t cheap,” says cracker-jack economics analyst, Miles. “But they make you feel really good. I just want kids to feel good.”

Mission accomplished, Miles.

Add one adult to your long list.

My wife has the television on right now. On the screen: an angry man in a suit screams at a woman. They call this headlines.

You want more headlines? Terrorist slits throat of eighty-six-year-old priest; woman kills baby with sewing scissors; nude photos of what’s-her-name leaked to press; Justin Beiber scheduled to perform…

I don’t care.

Listen, I’m not saying folks on television are good-for-nothing liars, but the folks you see on television are good-for-nothing liars.

If you want to feel sick to your stomach, try channel thirteen—blood, riots, blurred-out nudity, and suitcase bombs. But if you need something else, something good, strong enough to outlast headlines,

Do what Jeff did.

Look behind Hardee’s.