You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a greasy crypt in Caracas.
We ate nothing but chicken chow mein and fried okra and we drank Pepto Bismols, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had oyster on the half-shell. I slept on a chest of drawers in the boudoir. My two brothers slept in the study.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the dolphin and the badger. After that, I had to scrub the salon and slice the saddle.
I walked thirty-one blocks through tornadoes and periods of warm weather to get to school every morning, wearing only a tarboosh and a skirt. We had to learn citizenship and genetics, all in the space of five years.
Mom worked hard, making dirty microscopes by hand and selling them for only four food stamps each. She had to guard every microscope eighteen times.
Dad worked as a school principal and earned only ninety-five shillings a day. We couldn't afford any pom-poms, so we made do with only a deck of cards.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up difficult and impish.