THERE is an old woman - I am sure many of you know her - who sits at the corner of Holland Village's Crystal Jade, selling candy.
She is a fixture there and, each time I go back, I slip her a $5 or $10 note.
My daughter, now 6, has been watching me do that since she was 4.
She knows how to say: 'Ahpor, yum cha,' which is 'Grandma, drink tea,' in Cantonese. The small change is tea money for her.
I have no hesitation in giving to her because I know she is genuinely poor. I have spoken to her many times.
She is one of the lucky ones - she has a skill, she has a sweet spot and she has a charming face.
I see others in different parts of Singapore faring worse than her.
Some are handicapped, others frail, a few just too browbeaten by their misfortunes to do anything more than hold out a tissue pack.
Recently, I received an e-mail from a former colleague about a film by Martin See. It has footage of many of these poor people in Singapore - collecting empty cans, cardboard boxes, and panhandling.
Have you seen them too?
When my son, 4, joins me for lunch at Junction 8, we sometimes stand in the heat and listen to a blind busker singing.
My little guy likes the music, and sometimes walks over to hit the drums.
At the end, I slip the guy some notes but my son always wants to put in coins.
'So uncle knows we are paying him,' he explains.
What does a moment of compassion cost you? Just $2.
Today, the Prime Minister is likely to talk about an aging society. He will no doubt give examples of active seniors, and how they fall into place with the larger economic goal.
He will ask us to work as long as we can, so we will have enough for retirement.
On a policy level, we can talk about things, such as the Gin coefficient, income gap and eligibility criteria. Those discussions are important and necessary.
After all, you can't save the world by giving your own money. Or can you?
Suppose each of us make a start.
If one million people gave $2 each month, it would make $2 million a month - $24m a year. That is a tidy sum.
In fact, it is twice that total amount that the Government gives to the poorest of the poor in Singapore - those on public assistance.
True, if we willy-nilly gave out money, some of it might accidentally go to secret millionaires who ply the streets looking for tin cans.
But it's a chance I am willing to take.
What's the downside? Just $2 less for me in exchange, a hot meal for an old man who hasn't eaten for two days.
An hour less scavenging in the heat for an 80-year-old woman, looking for old cardboard boxes.
So pack your wallets with $2-notes. Give out one a day. Amazingly, you will feel happier.
And you will, of course, get some grins in return.
You know the money goes straight to the person intended, not to fatten up the pay package of the CEO of a charity, not to 'administration', not to professional fundraisers.
Once, I met a young man in Orchard who was fund-raising for a cancer charity. I recognised it as an outfit that took a sizable part of the donation in return for raising funds.
'I don't want to donate,' I said.
'You mean, you don't want to help cancer patients?' he said, in mock hurt.
'No, I don't want to help you,' I told him pointedly.
Sure, there is room for organised fund-raising. There is room for those who want to lobby for their own causes, just as there is room for policy discussions and government programmes.
But there is a large black hole of human compassion, waiting for good neighbours to help.
When you have an aging society, you don't just need more spending on health, and less barriers to movement. You need a more giving society, in every sense of the word.
