"Let me tell you a story that has stayed with me my whole life. It was the Yom Kippur War, 1973. I was a commander, leading 50 of my soldiers. The war was brutal, and in the beginning, we weren’t sure if we would make it out alive. One night, my friends and I found ourselves in Eilat, near the border. We were exhausted, uncertain of what the next day would bring. So, we decided—if this was going to be our last meal, we were going all out. We ate like kings, drank until we could barely stand, not caring about the bill. Because what did it matter? Tomorrow, we might not even be here. When the time came to pay, we braced ourselves. But when we looked at the bill—it was completely blank. Nothing. Confused, we asked the waiter, and then this short, chubby American guy in shorts walked up to us. His Hebrew was broken, but his message was crystal clear. He looked at us and said, ‘I can’t fight like you. I don’t have that in me. But what I can do is give. I can help. Every time I see soldiers, I pay. That’s my way of doing good in the world.’ That moment changed me. From that day forward, I made a promise: I would never let a soldier pay for their meal. And I’ve kept that promise my entire life. Even now, with war raging and our soldiers no longer walking freely in the streets, I still carry on this mission. Instead of soldiers, I buy coffee for students. The way I see it, giving isn’t about expecting gratitude or recognition. It’s about doing what’s right. Because that’s what truly makes me happy.”