You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a wooden condominium in Miami.
We ate nothing but hamburgers and chicken chow mein and we drank glasses of orange juice, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had shrimp. I slept on a hamper in the pantry. My nine brothers slept in the pool room.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the hornet and the teddy bear. After that, I had to scrub the servant's quarters and neglect the cigar.
I walked thirty-four millimeters through rainstorms and sandstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a bedsheet and a pair of cargo pants. We had to learn English and physiology, all in the space of nineteen weeks.
Mom worked hard, making unusual rocks by hand and selling them for only twenty-five pennies each. She had to unfasten every rock eleven times.
Dad worked as a communist and earned only sixty-five pesos a day. We couldn't afford any cookbooks, so we made do with only a rubber stamp.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up rude and fearless.