“Let’s Break Some F*cking Windows!”

As a child and throughout my teenage years I was stupid. I didn’t feel stupid, but an unending stream of reminders overwhelmed such feelings. Time and again, I was told, “You’re dumber than whale shit at the bottom of the ocean.” Over the course of many years, I came to embrace the role in which I was cast.

At 20 years old, I moved away and returned to college after a first year flunk out. Living on my own in the no-nonsense city of Lowell, I squeaked by on $240 a week. I was poor. Often, my roommates and I went without. Sometimes we went without heat, sometimes electricity, sometimes food. I had hope, though; hope for a better tomorrow. Throughout my twenties, I fought the good fight. Eventually I washed away the brand of stupidity and broke the chains of financial duress. I got lucky.

Now, decades later, I do not worry about the capacity (or lack thereof) of my brain. I do not worry about paying bills. I do, however, recall cold mornings without heat. I recall the pangs of hunger. And after all these years, I recall what it feels like to be called stupid...

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