Hillbilly Elegy

managed to find fault with nearly every
suggestion. Pajamas? Poor people don’t
wear pajamas. We fall asleep in our
underwear or blue jeans. To this day, I
find the very notion of pajamas an
unnecessary elite indulgence, like caviar
or electric ice cube makers. There was a
toy guitar that I thought looked both fun
and enriching, but I remembered the
electronic keyboard my grandparents
had given me one year and how one of
Mom’s boyfriends meanly ordered me to
“shut that fucking thing up.” I passed on
learning aids for fear of appearing
condescending. Eventually I settled on
some clothes, a fake cell phone, and fire
trucks.