Footprints

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In Those Days, we were poor. I knew that because Mom told me. And I knew it because we didn't own our own home, wore mostly hand-me-downs, had fewer toys, and almost never ate out like most of my other friends did. Pop usually had a second job and Mom made as many of our clothes that she could, and we shared their toys with each other, well some of the time.

But we had class. Mom said we were lower-middle class, and that was a stretch. Not due to race, but financial class. Mom said the wealthy class all got college educations and therefor got jobs like doctors or lawyers. And the poor class were destined to work in the fields doing manual labor and such. She said that our family was just above that line and that with a little luck, we could be what she called "semi-skilled" and have jobs like cops, mechanics, factory workers, and clerks.

Mom loved us, but she didn't sugar coat things. She said what it was, while giving a glimmer of hope to us that through hard work we might get to go to college and get that white collar job. And what she said was exactly what came to be.

One of her children actually graduated from college, two went to trade schools, and the rest attended some college classes. But there we remained, in the middle class, just a click of destiny away from being poor.

I think it was better the way Mom prepared us. A bit of encouragement, but no false hopes. Never telling us we would be President someday, or an astronaut, a doctor, or a professional athlete, but just stars, each in our own way.

Yeah, I know anything is possible in America. Like Abe Lincoln, the Long Legged MacMuslim did it. Some achieve their ambitions, but most don't. And for parents to convince their children that they will get fame and riches, is a false promise that leads to their collapse when they realize dreams won't be fulfilled.

So, how did Mom know?
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