As a Boy Scout, I took great pride in my uniform. My grandmother bought it for me when my parents were too poor to afford one, and I cherished every stitch of it. I felt special.  I didn’t have much in the way of material possessions, we were just too poor.  Most of the other scouts had full uniforms.  I often felt separate and different because of our poverty.  The uniform changed that, because it made me equal to the others.  I had it all—the shirt with all my badges sewn on, pants, belt, socks, hat, sash covered in merit badges, my neckerchief, and the neckerchief slide. It was the finest and most dear thing I owned.