My Father grew up in Park Heights, Baltimore and had nothing growing up, he had moved house 14 times before the age of 8. He fended for himself from age 14 to 16, and kipped on park benches, in doorways, anywhere he could get some shelter. He'd offer help to people carrying home shopping, or anyone that needed assistance, in hope of being tossed a couple of dollars, and even when he did get a few dollars together, he was often mugged before the day was out, although that gradually stopped, as he became more aware of what was going on around him.
In the mid 70's he found himself in around Inner Harbor, where he found work and gradually his income increased and his life took an immeasurable turn for the better.
He lived those few years, with no love and no money. He wasn't interested in love, he wanted money, not because he was materialistic, but because it was what he needed to survive. Even though he eventually found the money, he has always said that he was never happy, until he met my ould one.
Learning about him growing up has taught me to appreciate money, but life has come to revolve too much, around money.
