I have a red shirt that I love. It was stitched for me by Gandhi. My parents were friends with him. Gandhi was at my christening. He was so taken by me that he said, "I'm gonna stitch this lad a shirt!"
The thing is the next day Gandhi was shot and he was rushed to the hospital. My parents went to see him. They brought me with them. Gandhi was touched we were there. My asked how Gandhi how he was doing. He said that it looked like he would die. They then asked about the shirt.
The thing is, my parents are direct and honest. They don't keep things in. When I was born, I cried, and they asked me, "Are you going to be doing this crying thing a lot, because it's bothering us." I said, "I'm sorry, I'll stop."
Gandhi didn't take it personally. He knew my parents. He asked that red fabric, thread and a needle be brought in. With great pain he finished my shirt. My parents thanked Gandhi, he said 'you're welcome' and then he died.
I still have the shirt. My dog Rexy wears it now. She loves it!
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