Sam Neudecker slid the dollar bills into his daughter’s Barbie-pink cash register. His neighbors looked over dozens of glass vases set on a folding table in their front yard on the tree-lined suburban street.

His wife, Megan, with help from their 6-year-old daughter, had made dozens of mini floral arrangements with zinnias, cosmos and lavender from their yard for this flower stand. A homemade sign propped in front of the stand noted that the proceeds would be going to The Sameer Project, a nonprofit working to feed the starving people in Gaza. A green, white, black and red Palestinian flag displayed the words “Free Gaza.” In smaller print, at the bottom of the white poster board, it said: "Stop the Genocide."

The neighbors selected a glass mug packed with colorful blooms.

Megan Neudecker, 37, doesn’t personally know any Palestinian Americans.

She wasn’t even very aware of the nearly two-year-long war until a few months ago.

“Should I have known?” she asked rhetorically. “Yes, but I didn’t know.”

That changed after she read a post her cousin, Nicholas Heller, wrote on Medium. He titled it “Genocide and Bedtime Stories: A Father’s Reckoning.”

In it, Heller described the unbearable contrast he lives with every night: “The images on my phone -- grieving families weeping over the lifeless bodies of their children. Toddlers pulled from rubble, screaming. Dust-covered, wide-eyed, trembling in hospital beds. Starving people with hollow faces. Bodies wrapped in bloodied cloth.

"None of it resembles my reality.

"Here, in the safety of my home, it’s warm and quiet. My two children sleep soundly in their bunk beds, bathed in the soft glow of a night-light.”

He wrestles with the fact that “my tax dollars -- the same ones cast in the shadow of Never Again -- aren’t just complicit. They’re funding this genocide.” And then he asks: How are the besieged and bombed Palestinian children any different from his own?

When Megan read that, she started crying. For hours.

She began following Palestinian accounts on Instagram to see what was happening on the ground -- stories she rarely saw on mainstream American media. What she saw horrified her and shook her to her core: a man-made famine. A military starving a civilian population of nearly 2 million people.

As of mid-July, Israel’s military had killed more than 17,000 children and injured 33,000 in Gaza during this latest conflict, according to UNICEF. The scale of child fatalities in Gaza mark it as one of the deadliest conflicts for children in modern history.

Megan’s feelings reflect a broader shift in American public opinion about the war.

Only 32% of Americans now approve of Israel’s military action in Gaza, down from a high of around 50% shortly after the war began in 2023. Disapproval stands at 60%, according to a Gallup poll from July.

Megan felt compelled to do something. Anything. She was cutting flowers from her garden in Webster Groves, Missouri, when she wondered if she could sell them and donate the proceeds.

“It came from a feeling of helplessness,” she said.

The first flower stand sale in July featured a dozen small vases, and the family raised $400. Her neighbors told her that if she did it again, they wanted to donate vases and their own flowers. The second sale brought in $1,000 to fill 35 vases. Their third and final sale took place during a scorching heat wave in mid-August. They raised another $1,100.

“I really don’t have a personal connection to the war,” she said. “I just saw the pictures of what’s happening, and it struck me that there’s no difference between me and my kids and the people there and their kids, except where we were born. I had to do something other than cry.”

At first, she wondered how her Jewish neighbors would respond to the sale and her sign. Several of them donated and bought flowers.

A few passersby booed, and someone left a nasty comment on her Facebook post.

She said it was important to her to use the word "genocide" in the yard sign.

“I’m not trying to be divisive,” she said. “But that’s what is happening.”

She hopes to continue raising awareness even though they’ve held their last sale for the season.

The most beautiful flowers are now dying.

Sobia Shahab, of Ballwin, Missouri, lost her husband of nearly 24 years unexpectedly this summer when he suffered organ failure after a sudden illness.

Shahab, in the haze of shock and grief, decided to sell one of the family’s cars to save on expenses. About a week after Omar died, she took their Nissan Armada to the local dealership where the couple had previously purchased four vehicles.

The dealership accepted the car and wrote a bill of sale.

However, the DMV made a clerical error with the vehicle’s VIN, which created confusion at the dealership about whether the taxes had been paid on the car. The salesman, with whom the family had done repeated business and who knew the circumstances around the returned car, sent Shahab an email saying they could not complete the sale.

The email included a line that devastated her.

“I’m sorry that your deceased husband did not handle this when he bought the Armada,” the salesman wrote.

When she read that, Shahab burst into tears.

“Why would he say that?” Shahab said. “I just lost my husband.” The insensitive remark, insinuating that her deceased husband had somehow neglected his responsibilities, added a layer of pain to her grief.

Of course, her husband had handled the taxes. For three years, they had been driving a legally registered car. That’s not possible unless the taxes are paid. She asked a lawyer friend to send the salesman a reply documenting the paid sales tax and noting the clerical error.

The loss of a loved one leaves us vulnerable and disoriented. Careless words can strike a raw wound. This wasn’t about a car sale. It was about basic decency. Shahab is hardly alone among the bereaved who have dealt with rude and hurtful comments.

Rabia Rafiq, of Wildwood, Missouri, recalls the questions her family fielded after the sudden death in 2023 of her brother Ali, 41. Rafiq’s mother had discovered Ali’s lifeless body in their basement. Friends and acquaintances pressed her family for intrusive details, even as the family themselves had no answers. Immediately after his death, some visitors repeatedly asked her mother unbelievable questions: What position was he in when you found him? What were his last words? What did he look like?

These questions forced her to relive the worst moment of her life. Still, some persisted. They treated the family’s tragedy like a mystery they had to solve, Rafiq said.

When we are confronted with death, it can pique individual curiosity, or even worse, spark gossip. But try to imagine the pain these questions can inflict on those reeling from the sudden loss of a loved one.

At gatherings intended for condolences, some visitors treated the Rafiqs’ home as a social space, laughing and gossiping. Rafiq said others disrespected the family’s wishes for a closed casket, going so far as to try to uncover her brother’s body against explicit instructions. This kind of behavior forced her to take on the role of the protector of her brother’s dignity -- and of her parents’ well-being -- when all she wanted was space to grieve.

After Ali’s passing, one woman told Rabia’s mother, “Well, now your line has ended.” Others openly speculated about possible causes of his death.

“We were just trying to survive,” Rafiq said. She wishes some of those who showed up could have been more respectful.

When people don’t know what to say, they fill the silence with harmful words or actions. Those who feel compelled to play detective, to satisfy their curiosity about the circumstances of death, are making a horrific situation even worse.

Others, uncomfortable with grief, try to normalize the moment with casual chatter or cliches. Those who are grieving may just want compassion and presence. Often that means saying less and listening more: Acknowledge a loss without demanding details. Respect a family’s boundaries. Show up when invited or offer specific support. Avoid careless remarks that suggest blame or speculation.

Words have the power to soothe those who are grieving. Or they can leave even worse scars.

The moment Diane Smith saw a post about Mrs. Roper’s Romps -- parties inspired by a feisty character from a throwback sitcom -- she wanted to plan one.

Smith, 55, remembers watching “Three’s Company,” a show that aired from 1977 to 1984, about three single roommates living together in an apartment complex owned by Stanley and Helen Roper. The comedic premise of the show required the male lead, Jack Tripper, played by John Ritter, to pretend to be gay because Mr. Roper would not allow unmarried men and women to live together.

Mrs. Roper quickly figures out the ruse, but conspires with the friends to keep up the facade.

“It was a little risque for its time, but it was harmless,” Smith says. Helen Roper, played by Audra Lindley, wore oversized glasses, billowy caftans and a carrot-red mop of curls. The show had a running gag of her trying to seduce her disinterested, cheapskate husband.

If only Stanley could see her now.

In 2013, Bud Moore of New Orleans was trying to come up with a group costume for the city’s over-the-top Southern Decadence parade. He suggested Mrs. Roper to a group of friends, and they loved the idea.

“I’m 53, my friends are all Gen X,” Moore says. Helen Roper was more than just a laugh line in a TV show.

“She’s a feminist icon, a gay icon, a fashion icon,” he says. “She didn’t take any (nonsense) from her husband or anyone else. A real fireball.”

That first parade featured about 55 Mrs. Ropers -- all men. Moore figured it would be a one-time thing, but he had just gotten the ball rolling.

In 2023, after Smith saw a Facebook post about the Helen Roper-themed events, she called the owner of Roper’s Regal Beagle in Godfrey, Illinois. That was also the name of the local bar in the show, making it the perfect place to host the region’s first Roper Romp. Smith explained that the gatherings were becoming a national phenomenon, and the owner offered a party room and drink specials. About 20 people, most in costume, showed up for the event.

The next year, Smith moved the party to Just John Club in St. Louis. Nearly 200 people attended that year. Moore had started a Facebook page about the events, and the group has gone from 7,000 members in 2023 to nearly 85,000 members now -- in 49 states, seven Canadian provinces and 15 other countries.

Romps take place everywhere from winery patios to neighborhood bars, with attendees ranging from their 20s to their 70s and older. There have been more than 1,000 events worldwide.

On a humid June evening, the patio of LaTeaDa Tea Room in Clinton, Illinois, was filled with bold, floral muumuus and a crowd of red-orange wigs. Lisa G and the Good Reasons played '70s hits while Helens sipped on themed cocktails and wine and danced the night away.

The Romps are part costume party, part nostalgia trip and part love letter to Helen. The gatherings celebrate her sassy spirit and devil-may-care attitude.

Sondra DeVries, 55, of Litchfield, Illinois, was on a weekend camping trip with friends, one of whom told her about the gathering nearby. They found the perfect Mrs. Roper costumes and accessories. Amazon even has an entire section dedicated to Helen Roper-inspired attire and accessories.

“We danced a lot that night,” DeVries said. “It’s a great way to meet new friends and have a little party.”

After the Romp, she rewatched clips of "Three's Company" on YouTube. "It was just funny," she said.

Smith thinks part of the appeal is that Helen was ahead of her time: “She was a person of few lines, but they were meaningful.”

The events have flourished because attendees are drawn to Helen’s iconic style and attitude. There’s also the strong pull of nostalgia. Some of the romps are part of bigger events, like Pride parades or neighborhood pub crawls. Others might involve destination gatherings at wineries, campgrounds or historic taverns.

The show, which consistently ranked in the top 10 for six consecutive seasons, found additional fans in syndication and through DVD releases. The Ropers had their own spinoff series. “Three’s Company” and the characters became a part of pop culture. It has an enduring appeal even though its premise has become ridiculous and dated.

At the time, it was considered edgy. Those who watched the show as children and adolescents are doing more than remembering a TV hit; they’re channeling Helen’s spirit -- irreverent and a little rebellious.

Some past attendees said there’s something empowering about stepping into that dress. Helen embraced her individuality with self-confidence without taking herself too seriously.

Helenistas have committed to the caftan, the wig and the wink.