Growing up in the 1970s, I often found myself in my father’s factory, which manufactured women’s clothing. Spending time in the factory was not only a way to be close to my dad, but also great entertainment in an era of only 5 TV channels and no cell phones or personal computers. (Later, my first job was sweeping the factory floors). The factory was like my personal playground — the stacks of pallets were mountains, the floor-to-ceiling dress racks a jungle gym, the colorful stacks of fabric a 50-layer cake. Enthralled by my surroundings, I would run around the factory floor and talk to the operators at each machine. They took pride in showing me what they did — they were paying it forward.