My mom helped me understand that I should appreciate what I have, while I have it. Some of that's really small stuff. My earliest memory is being washed in the kitchen sink, and then, my disappointment when we had to move that to the bath. Later, well, I loved having pajamas with the feet in them, and then, my disappointment when I was too big for them. (They're made in adult sizes now, but it's not the same.) Only recently have I realized how she struggled to raise two boys, living not far above the poverty line. We were never hungry, but I recall her scraping together a little money for...