With an ex-con hot tar roofer for a father, I grew up without a lot of money. We were never destitute, since back in the 60s and 70s families could get by on a proportionally smaller chunk of change than today. But from time to time we ate ketchup sandwiches, and I overheard the phrase white trash floating toward me more than once. And I didn't enjoy growing up that way. 

So when it came time to start a family of my own, money became more important than it had ever been. I felt like I had to have a real career (or at least a real job) before I could raise a family, and this led me into some decisions I wish I hadn't made––not so much in the jobs that I took but in the slavish mentality I took toward them. 

Looking back, I clearly let myself get sucked into every preconception about the importance money that I'd railed against when I was a young proletarian. Without money, I based my sense of self as a man on physical strength and sexual prowess. Once I got married I cut off sexual conquest as an option and, without even knowing it at the time, replaced it with financial stability. I became the thing I never could stand when I was younger: Mr. Dependable. 

Was I even present for this transaction? Was it part of some unwitting Satanic deal that allowed me to become a father at all? One way or another, my attitude toward money (as well as my "Fuck-You-I-Quit" attitude and bridge-burning habit) had to change in order for me to become a responsible father. Now, thanks to Mr. Dependable's continuous employment and a few other factors, I'm seeing what life is like on the other side of the invisible fence between poverty and financial stability. I've got money in retirement funds, for Pete's sake––me, the one-time starving artist rebel! 

There are days I can't get over this, when I wonder what I've done wrong. And then I think that my kids are growing up with more options than I had, and (in the tradition of Ellis Island mutt fathers everywhere), I simply say thanks and get back to work. 

This page has a ton of hyperlinks, doesn't it? That's because the money situation––not having it, then needing it, then having it––is a lot more central to my fatherly identity than I'll ever want to admit. 

And here you are, catching me while I admit it.