Hillbilly Elegy

have consumed me. I learned early to
spread my money out lest Mom or
someone else find it and “borrow” it—
some under the mattress, some in the
underwear drawer, some at Mamaw’s
house. When, later in life, Usha and I
consolidated finances, she was shocked
to learn that I had multiple bank accounts
and small past-due balances on credit
cards. Usha still sometimes reminds me
that not every perceived slight—from a
passing motorist or a neighbor critical of
my dogs—is cause for a blood feud. And
I always concede, despite my raw
emotions, that she’s probably right.
A couple of years ago, I was driving
in Cincinnati with Usha, when somebody