Drowning American… I suppose that’s how I’ve felt for the last 8 or so years of my life as I’ve struggled finding my place in the world and achieving the all elusive “happiness” and American Dream.
I grew up relatively privileged, not lavishly so, but definitely more than most. However, my father never handed me anything. He demanded respect for what I was given and instilled in me an appreciation for the good fortune I’d been birthed into.
I still remember earning my first $100. I had saved loose change and, if lucky enough, dollar bills. I didn’t receive an allowance, my parents didn’t believe in it. Instead, I sold lemonade in the summer, washed my parents’ cars, and foraged neighborhood home building sites for pop bottles and cans (a task twice as lucrative in MI than CA). I wanted a bike. It was a 21 speed, black Schwinn and ran about $200.