We who have been the core of Gesundheit! humanitarian clowning for decades, started taking groups of students on spring-break trips to poor countries to clown. We want young people to experience, in themselves, what happens when they see that their actions of love and healing relieve suffering. Why would we focus on this age group? First, so we could do something with our children and their friends during spring break that wasn't just self-indulgent partying, something meaningful. We wanted them to get to know how extreme the disparity between wealth and poverty can be, in such a way that would help motivate them to become involved in trying to change this disparity, and to want to make that part of their life work. Of course this is what we wanted, who have been engaging in "nasal diplomacy" for years. But that doesn't necessarily mean it would be what the younger people want—so how did they respond? As it turns out, not only have the initial eight high school students all stayed with it, but many of the college students (up to 20 each trip) signed up for repeated trips. And are starting to organize trips themselves. There are a lot of troubled areas in the world that can benefit from humanitarian clowning. This year we chose Haiti. It is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. The need is so great in Port-Au-Prince that travelers tend to avoid it. And yet the young people worked fearlessly and exuberantly every minute we were there to bring love and fun to the worst of suffering—though often in tears when we would go back to the hotel. But there was no whining. I salute them. On the first trip we would sometimes go two to four times to the same place, so we could all have a chance to hold on for extended times those we'd loved on previous visits and also to give some reassurance of follow-up. We were hosted by Mercy and Sharing, a group begun by Susie Krabacher (read her Angels of a Lower Flight). Susie is the example of a citizen who cares, sees a need, and says "It's up to me!" And for 14 years she has obsessively devoted her life to caring for the discarded in Haiti. Read her story and realize you can do it. One of her services takes abandoned children—not only starving from poverty, but genetically, physically, mentally handicapped precious souls. In becoming close to them all of us were touched personally. When I've been to other distressed, impoverished places, there always seemed to be somewhere within them—a park, a riverside—where an overworked parent could come and have a moment of peace. I did not see one such place in our visits to Haiti. There is a systematic despair from such long-term poverty and abusive governance (the US as been a major part of this horror since Jefferson—read Paul Farmer's The Users of Haiti) that the task of recovery feels more daunting than any place I've been. It is hard to respond to the offer of love and fun when one is hungry without prospects. Yet those are desparately needed, too. What is happening in Haiti is a hint of how the global human community will be if we do not change to a loving world where all of us are self-reliant, interdependent, and caring. We all need each other.