My parents were always telling me how lucky I was.  We were a middle-class family that lived on the northwestern outskirts of the city of Chicago.  We lived close to the suburbs, but not exactly in the suburbs.  At most, they were a ten minute drive away as was the rest of the city.  We were never poor, but never rich either.  I was never a starving child in Africa.  I was never had to experience living as a Type 2 diabetic or someone diagnosed with cancer or scoliosis.  I didn’t have to drop out of school and work in a factory from dawn until dusk.  No, things were never that bad for me and my family.  At the same time, I never had designer clothes or really expensive gym shoes.  I didn’t play the latest video games or own the latest video game systems.  I had to save up enough money so that I could put myself through driving school and then get my license.  I had to work and save up to buy my own car and I finally got it when I was 20 years old.  I didn’t even go to my high school prom because I didn’t have any money to go, not that I wanted to given I practically hated everyone I went to school with.  So while I was never Oliver Twist in modern America, I also had to earn just about everything I ever got.