I have 42 years of age. I was born in 1968 in the beautiful that under the pavement was the beach which was cool as can be seen in the image, the memory of the time it was customary working hours exceed 40 hours per week. I grew up in a working class family. I must say that I ever spent any kind of deprivation. But in all honesty, I must say that ... well, originally, my family came from something located below the working class, something that with an unerring ability to describe the old Don Carlos Marx described as "lumpen proletariat ". I guess I grew up like you did all of you in the lap loving parents and grandparents. I grew up with an attentive ear (there is nothing more than a distracted child friendly ... they say) to those stories that spoke of poverty, kilometers and kilometers traveled in search of a future, ration cards, strenuous working days of shit wages but did not give to Malcolm, Suit who wore years and years, went to the tailor, and this training gave them back to continue to be used by the other side, years and years. Shoes that were in search of tapas and half-soles to the cobbler. (It is true that the shoe like object appeared late in the life of my parents and grandparents ... they were more than espadrille ... they come from a time when between the sandal and shoe was a ditch social several meters long, very hard to jump, even gaining momentum). 
grew up in a house with sofas and television. Unlike some ancestors who were uncomfortable chairs just rushes ... maybe that's why they spent a lot more time on the street. I grew up pampered and spoiled, in an environment that I never miss anything ... but listening to my ancestors tell stories, stories of daily bombings, in which my grandfather had a baby this week was my mother every day in a basket of straw to the subway tunnel that guaranteed its immediate survival until the next day ... ... and back again. My mother had the misfortune of being born in the year 1937 in which certain international powers decided to practice experiments of military R & D paid by the Banca March, the provisional government and other sponsors Iberian Burgos. 
Today more and I measure 20 cm Weight 15 kilos but my father measured and weighed at my age, for the simple reason that above me did not pass a war and postwar period as bulldozers. My metabolism has had access to many proteins and know-out of these references to family mythology, what are some "Farinet" or the husks understood as food for humans. When I turned 18 I could access without too many financial problems to a university education. I, .... The grandson of a sharecropper farm began to work hard to seven years, the grandson of an electrician who began working at age ten, the son of an accountant who started work at fourteen buttons years, I have my degree in law at age 22 without knowing what the fuck was that of social security contributions or hear the anger of a boss who wanted to slaughter today made yesterday. Social security contributions ... pussy! ... That great invention. The certainty that a portion of your salary going directly to a guarantee fund for free medical care, disability, unemployment, death, widowhood. The certainty that at age 65 would have a fair retirement. I belong to a generation in which many of its members believe that the eight-hour days, paid holidays, or unemployment benefits are eternal like the sun and moon were there ... life ... like stones, sea \u200b\u200bor the trees. Well, no buds. These gifts are a legacy of his grandfather. And they are paid with the blood of people. You were born, like me, in an era of cold war. At a time when there was the red menace. The terrible Iron Curtain, the Eastern bloc .... Dictatorial and inhuman. Meanwhile, throughout Western Europe a strong and active left ... in some countries legal left-but-almost never scratched power ... in others, like ours, in secret, suppressed, imprisoned and persecuted ... but in any case , much more alive than it is today. Showing its teeth. Threatening. And in the shadow of that threat was born and raised the EU- social rights after the war. That today, without an enemy in sight, it crumbles. Let's give something to these people is not going to be that we fill out an revolution ... some people thought. 
And today, the overfed children and grandchildren of the wrestlers of yesteryear are as they eat the toast. And so quiet ... The supercharged children and grandchildren of those who fought against illiteracy are too concerned with the adventures and misadventures of Belén Esteban to move their chubby asses off the couch. They say that a people without literacy is much more manipulable ... because I do not know, frankly, I think I have my doubts. Or perhaps functional illiteracy is far more lethal than real illiteracy. In tribute to those ancestors, my great grandfather illiterate, my grandfather who was considered a privilege not to be and he burned his sight reading but lacked other things ... in her memory, I read in one sitting the short book of this man of his generation. carried in the folds of much suffering memory. I urge you you throw a look at the link. Health, Peace, Love and righteous indignation to all, folks.
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