I was not a very empathetic child, so I greatly resented my parents' inability to afford the things I wanted.

Often I found myself eyeing other children's bright, new, fashionable outfits, and I swore to myself that when I grew up, I would be certain to have plenty of money, with all of the shoes, dresses and beautiful outfits I could possible want, and my children would also enjoy and endless supply of beautiful clothing, so that they would always feel as good as the other kids their age. A wido single mother, I found myself looking for work that would support the both of us with little job experience, and only an associate's degree in liberal arts. Well, three decades later, I felt a lot more sympathy for my parents and their financial predicament. Excellent for tying together random credits in order to pursue a bachelors degree; worthless for trying. Thirty years ago, I was growing up as the eldest child in a working class family of six. They would always feel as though they fit in.

There were ma that there was just barely enough food on the table, much less money to outfit our constantly growing bodies.