In his heart, John tells me, he’s trash. It’s what he comes from and it’s what he is. But he knows that he doesn’t live like trash. He’s gone from a childhood on the South Side to an adulthood on the North Side. John’s father worked in a factory and didn’t go to college. His family owned a house, like mine. And both of our mothers didn’t have their own income until they left our fathers. Our mothers weren’t in the same class, exactly, but they were in the same boat.
