counting my blessings

The very best thing about having been born into an economically marginal family in Birmingham, Alabama, having been raised largely by my grandmother while my mother worked and my father was in jail, and having worked a minimum of 25 hours a week to pay my way through an undistinguished public university, is that now I get to enjoy the boon of hearing people whose parents sent them to Ivy League schools constantly lecture me about how privileged I am.