I’m one of three kids who were, by economic standards, considered poor. Our parents heated our old farmhouse with wood or coal, we wore hand-me-down clothes, and Mom shopped the grocery sales with $20 to feed a family of five each week. I have no clue how she made the money stretch as far as it did.

But in our childhood, our lack of material things and modern conveniences didn’t give us a clue that we lived at the poverty level. No one told us, certainly not our young parents, who really made life fun.