Prosperity is a great teacher; adversity is a greater. Possession pampers the mind; privation trains and strengthens it.
-William Hazlitt

Given enough time, I could probably come up with a suitable story that would entertain you and anyone who reads it, but when it comes down to it, why bother? You want the real scoop, so I might as well give it to you. If I had anything to hide, I wouldn't tell you that part anyway, so there's really no danger in it.

This is the third city I've lived in, and the one I like the best. My family started out in Minneapolis, but we left there when I was only three and moved on to Trenton, NJ, city of excitement. Not. We stayed there until I was twelve and then ended up here. What went on during those times isn't all that thrilling or worthy of telling, life was pretty normal as I see it. I mean, how exciting can Trenton, NJ be anyway? It's when we hit New Orleans, or at least not long after, that things got stirred up. Maybe it's something in the water, I don't know.

It started with my older sister, Amelia. She started hanging out with the wrong crowd and staying out until all hours of the night. Gave the folks no end of worry. Then there was the day she came home and told them she was pregnant. Boy, did the shit hit the fan then. If anyone saw a minor mushroom cloud in the city about seven or so years ago, that was it. Some prick had gotten her pregnant, she was totally and completely in love. Gag me. Accusations started flying left and right, my parents blaming each other and Amelia, Amelia blaming them, and strangely, nobody blaming the prick. I thought that rather odd, but who knows what goes through people's minds when they explode like that? I guess maybe part of the magic I found out later that I had peeked out at that time, because when I decided to get out there and try and be the voice of reason and somehow that calmed them all down. They weren't exactly happy, but just decided to fume instead of yell. Which was nice, a guy can get a real headache when that shit happens.

Unfortunately, the lull in the madness didn't stop completely. Two days later my folks found a note left by Amelia saying that she'd run off with the prick and that they didn't have to worry about ever seeing her again. I don't know just what they were thinking inside. Maybe they were blaming each other again, maybe themselves. But they got really quiet and it remained quiet for days after. I don't know what sorts of talks they had in their room at night, but eventually it all tore the family apart. My father left and I stayed with my mother. I suppose it was amicable enough, they certainly didn't fight in front of me. Both parents stayed in New Orleans, I saw my dad often enough. But things just weren't quite the same with either of them after Amelia left. I guess I missed her too, but we were never all that close so it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

I was sixteen when we next got word of Amelia. It wasn't pleasant word, sadly. The police in Miami had found the body of a young woman who had been strangled and traced it back to us. Yeah, it was Amelia. I suspect that the prick had something to do with it. We did learn from the autopsy that she hadn't aborted the baby, but gave birth. I have no idea if she kept it or adopted it out and what happened to it in the end. I should find that out, actually now that I think about it. I'd really like to know.

It wasn't long after finding out this news that I hooked up with Las Araņas. I guess I felt a little lost and alone with Amelia dead and my folks closed off even tighter. It was as if I'd ceased to exist with them. I don't blame them, I know that they were trying to rationalize things and probably kept coming back to themselves for blame for what happened to Amelia. Yet again, nobody ever thought about blaming the prick. Except me. I started spending less and less time at home, I'm not sure either of my parents noticed that I was involved in anything. I got into more than a little trouble with the gang along the way, but in the end, as everyone knows by now, that turned around. We still get into trouble, but it's a different kind. A good kind. I still see my folks every now and then but it's hard, you know? I don't know how to help them and I keep wondering if maybe my magic had something to do with it. I found out that I can dispel things and nullify emotions at least temporarily. Maybe I nulled theirs a little too much and too permanently, I don't know. I shouldn't read anything into it but it's hard. I guess maybe a little of that self-blame hit me as well. Right or wrong, there it is. And for now, there it remains.

There is no calamity which a great nation can invite which equals that which follows a supine submission to wrong and injustice.
-Grover Cleveland

Apathy is a sort of living oblivion.
--Horace Greeley