My bubble is a world much different from my grandparents' roots or the environment in which my parents raised my brother and me. Our family are Pennsylvania coal crackers who came from Eastern Europe with nothing. I grew up on a quarter-acre lot, in a three-bedroom house, which had no shower until I was in the eighth grade. That bathroom renovation was performed by an inmate on work release from the Bucks County Prison, where my father, a guidance counselor by day, ran the adult-education program. My mom stayed at home, then worked as a secretary, and, when I was in high school, hit pay dirt as a hardworking Realtor. I won't tell you her age, but she still works, long past the point where she needs to.