Growing up, I hated being on “food stamps.”
I hated being walked into a welfare office and inspected, queried to make sure we were really our mother’s children. I hated standing in line at the grocery store, knowing we weren’t going to be paying with cash, but rather with coupons that would brand us as “poor” to anybody who noticed.
And yet I loved the fact that we had food!
As a growing kid, I knew what it was like to come home to a bare kitchen. Those dreaded coupons and vouchers meant we got cheese and milk, fruit, eggs, cereal, beans, tortillas, and yes, sometimes even ice cream.
Thanks to all that free food and the stability that came with it, I was able to pay attention in school — and I excelled.
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