Hillbilly Elegy

Mamaw’s. Boyfriends came and went,
Mom had good days and bad, but I
always had an escape route. With Papaw
gone and Mom in rehab at the Cincinnati
Center for Addiction Treatment—or “the
CAT house,” as we called it—I began to
feel myself a burden. Though she never
said anything to make me feel unwanted,
Mamaw’s life had been a constant
struggle: From the poverty of the holler
to Papaw’s abuse, from Aunt Wee’s
teenage marriage to Mom’s rap sheet,
Mamaw had spent the better part of her
seven decades managing crises. And
now, when most people her age were
enjoying the fruits of retirement, she was
raising two teenage grandchildren.