
Homeless and Hungry. Lessons First Learned. And the Government Can’t Feed Me
As both fists of my father’s hands hit the dining table, drinks from the three couples’ gilded glasses spilt onto the fine linen tablecloth below. “You did what?” While his crescendo may not have matched that of Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, it nonetheless made a riveting impression on those in attendance. Good guests all, everyone, including my mother and I, sat silent. I was amazed, having never before seen this side of my father’s behavior. Others had seen this type of reaction before in others, as evidenced by the betrayal on their faces. But not me. I had just witnessed what a group of incredulous people looked like. I was in the fourth grade and had much to learn. That night I would learn much. It seems…