No. I Don't Want To

Oh, I Wish I Was Young Again When Everything Seemed So Wonderful!

Oh, Magic Hour, When A Child First Knows She Can Read Printed Words.

Books Became Her Friends, And There Was One For Every Mood.

There's A Tree That Grows In Brooklyn. Some People Call It The Tree Of Heaven. No Matter Where Its Seed Falls, It Makes A Tree Which Struggles To Reach The Sky. It Grows In Boarded-up Lots And Out Of Neglected Rubbish Heaps. It Grows Up Out Of Cellar Gratings. It Is The Only Tree That Grows Out Of Cement. It Grows Lushly . . . Survives Without Sun, Water, And Seemingly Without Earth. It Would Be Considered Beautiful Except That There Are Too Many Of It.

A Person Who Pulls Himself Up From A Low Environment Via The Bootstrap Route Has Two Choices. Having Risen Above His Environment, He Can Forget It; Or, He Can Rise Above It And Never Forget It And Keep Compassion And Understanding In His Heart For Those He Has Left Behind Him In The Cruel Upclimb.