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Losing the Golden Spoon

            I was one of those boys who were born with a golden spoon in his mouth. When I was 3 years old, my dad had cars he put on the road for public transportation, though he was riding a Vespa motorcycle. He eventually acquired a lot of cars which were at the disposal of my younger ones and me. We had our own driver, my Mom had hers and my Dad had his. We had whatever we wanted, went to the best schools, and ate three course meals three times a day. We wore the best clothes, which were bought already made, (then it was only the affluent that could afford those) and wore the best shoes. We had maids and a lot of helpers in the house. We had whatever we wanted even without asking. Growing up I was invited to every party in town and I had a lot of friends. Everyone I met wanted to be my friend because I was a rich man's son and was always had lots of money, and of course went everywhere chauffeur-driven. My younger ones and I had professionally dressed drivers pick us from school which made us the envy of our schoolmates who did not have such luxury. We had private tutors that came to the house to help us with school work and went for paid evening classes in school which we called extramural classes. Most of the students that attended those classes had wealthy parents. I grew up as a wealthy man's son and being the first male child, made me have it better than my siblings.
             My parents, as most wealthy parents do, wished I would keep the golden spoon in my mouth for the rest of my life. They did all they could to make sure of that, of course, without cooperation from me, it would not be. Every morning around 5 am, my parents sat my siblings and me down in the privacy of their bedroom, admonished and talked to us. They would pray with us and at night the same was done but involved every single person living in my house. We were encouraged and reminded of how we should behave and the consequences of delays, and that time waits for no one.

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