You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a fresh farmhouse in Atlanta.
We ate nothing but beef bouillon and oatmeal and we drank tonics, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had roast Cornish game hen. I slept on a floor in the parlor. My five brothers slept in the living room.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the camel and the hedgehog. After that, I had to scrub the pool room and dust the fire hose.
I walked seventeen hops through windy days and gales to get to school every morning, wearing only a coat of mail and a beehive. We had to learn theology and painting, all in the space of seven years.
Mom worked hard, making rigid artificial flowers by hand and selling them for only nineteen shillings each. She had to expand every artificial flower thirteen times.
Dad worked as a makeup artist and earned only forty-seven food stamps a day. We couldn't afford any ironing boards, so we made do with only a bell.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up self-assured and generous.