So, first of all, I do want to acknowledge my economic privilege. My parents worked hard as hell to give me a nice home and a GREAT education: private high school, an Ivy League college. Those are amazing assets in the labor market. I was indeed born on third base.
First of all I want to acknowledge my privilege. My mother worked hard to provide me with a safe environment in West Philadelphia, which enabled me to spend most of my youth on the playground, chilling out and shooting basketball outside of my school. I was blessed.
But then in my teens, two men began frequenting our hitherto safe neighborhood, and let's just say their intentions were not wholesome. I struggled to avoid their malign influence, but to no avail. Things turned violent.
Now, here again I have to acknowledge privilege. Not everyone has an auntie and uncle living in Bel-Air who are in a position to take them in. But did I want to go? Of course not! I pleaded with my mother to let me stay! But she was determined to send me away, and she was right.
Consider: at this point I was completely broke! I was TERRIFIED! What if I got sick, or worse, ran out of Himalayan cooking salts? It was only by embracing the virtues of thrift and hard work that I was able to get by on the four figure weekly allowance my uncle provided.
These were desperate times. I saved what I could. Instead of Le Creuset I bought Lodge. Instead of All Clad, Calphalon. These choices were borne out of financial desperation! I learned important lessons in those days that can apply no matter what your specific situation.
Anyway, I hope this story helps my young followers understand the value of sacrifice. Thanks for reading.
Karl Spackler: bourgeois varmints beware