

From Piss-pots to Praise
When I was a child, I dreamed of living in a mansion with marble pillars, large terraces, and spiral staircases, but I would have settled for running water and a toilet. The kids on the bus were cruel, and would yell out the windows, “Shack, shack, shack” as I exited. Needless to say, our house was very modest and we were very poor. “In the yard, sat our only source of water—a four-foot tall, rusty, brown hand-pump. The exterior walls of the house were unfinished, and Father