I grew up poor in a rich neighborhood. (Yes, I know that’s a total cliché.) My hometown of Kennebunkport, Maine happens to be one of the wealthiest communities in New England; yet my family was dirt poor.I mean that literally, because we lived at the bottom of a dirt road in a drafty, unfinished house.
One day when I was about 9, I asked my mother, “How come you and Dad are always fighting about money?” She replied that she was afraid there wasn’t enough money to pay the bills and keep food on the table every month.
I was confused, because I saw both my parents working hard all the time. So I asked her the next question that popped into my head: “Why isn’t there enough money?”I don’t think my mother really knew how to answer that question,
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