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I have very vivid memories of my mom and dad making up batches of fake blood at night.
When a mom or dad can stop worrying about where they will lay their head each night they can start climbing back on their feet and out of poverty.
When I started go-go dancing on tables for a living, I didn't want to tell my mom or my dad. I made 25 dollars a night, and I was able to make my rent, with the four girls I lived with.
I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, in a really rundown old house. I'd stay out till 8:30, 9:00 at night. Just blow in. My mom and dad never really cared much. It was okay. We were pretty free to roam. I mean, I had no concept of stopping play. It just didn't occur to anyone.