How Technology Changed My Life: The Story Behind Cheap Houses

If You Grew Up Poor, You May Recognize Yourself in Cheap Houses

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Maybe your family never called itself poor.

Maybe that was just how you lived.

You wore things until they wore out.

You learned that when something broke, replacing it wasn't always an option.

You knew there were things other children had that your family couldn't afford.

You understood that money mattered, even before you completely understood money.

And sometimes you learned not to ask for something because you already knew the answer.

If you grew up that way, you may understand Cheap Houses before you ever turn the first page.

Poverty Doesn't Always Look Like We Imagine It

I grew up in the coal camps and small communities of rural northern Alabama.

My family moved from one cheap house to another, looking for work and somewhere we could afford to live.

The houses weren't charming little country homes.

They were cheap because cheap was what we could afford.
Cracked walls.
Little insulation.
Few comforts.
Every dollar mattered.

As a boy, I worked wherever work could be found—picking cotton, hauling pulpwood, baling hay, and cutting fence posts.

I wore hand-me-down clothes.

I carried my lunch in a paper sack.

And when my shoes wore out, there were times when cardboard inside them had to do what a new pair of shoes would have done.

But here's something people who grew up poor may understand:
I didn't necessarily think of myself as poor.
It was simply my life.

When everyone around you is struggling too, poverty can look remarkably normal.

Maybe Your Poverty Looked Different

Maybe you didn't pick cotton.

Maybe you never hauled pulpwood.

Maybe you never put cardboard inside your shoes.

But perhaps your father drove an old car because there was no money for another one.

Maybe your mother knew how to stretch a meal farther than seemed possible.

Maybe clothes came from an older brother, sister, cousin, or neighbor.

Maybe one unexpected bill could throw the household into trouble.

Maybe you remember adults talking quietly about money when they thought the kids weren't listening.

Maybe you remember wanting something and deciding not to ask.

Different house.
Different town.
Different family.
Same feeling.

That's one reason I wrote Cheap Houses.

This Isn't a Story About Getting Rich

Cheap Houses: A Memoir of Poverty and Reinvention in Rural America isn't a story about becoming wealthy.

And it isn't a story that says if you just work hard enough, everything will turn out fine.

Life doesn't work that way.
Life can be unfair.
Where you start matters.
Opportunity matters.
Hard work matters.
Luck matters - more than most folks realize!
Persistence matters.

None of those things guarantees success.

But sometimes an opportunity appears that changes the direction of a life.

For me, one of those early moments came when I discovered something called "Future Cards" describing technologies that might someday become part of everyday life.

One described computers.
I had never seen one.
To a poor boy in rural Alabama, that world might as well have been on another planet.
But it showed me that another world existed.

At seventeen, I joined the United States Air Force as a medic. Over time, that path eventually led me into medical information systems and then information technology.

The circumstances changed.
The cheap houses were left behind.
But some of what they taught me never left.

That's Really What This Book Is About
Poverty can follow you long after you stop being poor.
It can affect the way you think about money.

Security.
Work.
Risk.
Opportunity.
What you save.
What you spend.
What you fear losing.
And what you consider "enough."

You can travel a long way from where you started and still carry part of that place with you.

You can leave poverty behind and still carry it with you

That is at the heart of Cheap Houses.

If Any of This Sounds Familiar, This Book May Be For You

I wrote Cheap Houses about my life.

But I don't believe poverty belongs to one person's story.
Millions of people grew up in families that worked hard and still struggled.
Families where money was always just a little too short.
Families who made do.

Repaired instead of replaced.
Saved what could be reused.
Went without.
And kept going.

If that describes part of your childhood, you may recognize something of yourself in these pages.
Not because we grew up in the same house.
Not because our lives followed the same path.
But because some experiences are understood without explanation.

Cheap Houses
A Memoir of Poverty and Reinvention in Rural America

Maybe you didn't grow up in one of my cheap houses.

But you may have grown up in one of your own.

ORDER CHEAP HOUSES ON AMAZON

Available in Kindle, paperback, and hardcover editions.

— Stevie G. Davis

Why Poverty Changes a Child: The Hidden Emotional Scars That Last Into Adulthood

 

Poverty Does Not Leave a Child Unmarked

People often talk about poverty like it is only about money.

They think poverty means you did not have nice clothes, a good house, a full refrigerator, or parents who could write checks when something broke. And yes, poverty is all of those things. But that is only what people can see from the outside.

What they do not see is what poverty does inside a child.

What Poverty Does Inside a Child

Poverty changes the way a child thinks. It changes the way a child sees the world. It changes what a child believes is possible. And long after that child grows up, gets a job, pays bills, buys a house, or looks successful from the outside, those old scars can still whisper from the inside.

I know because I carried them.

Growing up poor is not just a childhood condition. It shapes the way you think, the choices you make, and the fears you carry long after the poverty itself is gone. It teaches your body to stay alert. It teaches your mind to expect disappointment. It teaches your heart not to hope too loudly because hope can hurt when it gets crushed.

A child in poverty learns things no child should have to learn.

You learn to notice the look on your mother’s face when there is not enough money. You learn the difference between a parent being tired and a parent being worried. You learn to recognize when adults are quietly counting pennies, stretching food, delaying bills, or pretending everything is okay when it is not.

You learn that shoes wear out before there is money to replace them. You learn that the electric bill matters more than your wants. You learn that asking for something can feel like adding weight to someone already bent over. A child should not have to understand that kind of math, but poverty teaches it early.

That kind of childhood does not just create memories. It creates instincts.

Even when life gets better, part of you stays ready for it to fall apart.  That is why poverty does not simply disappear when a person grows older. I wrote more about that in Poverty Does Not Just Disappear: What Carbon Hill Taught Me About Survival.

That is one of the deepest scars of poverty. It teaches you that security is temporary. It makes peace feel suspicious. It makes success feel like something you borrowed and will eventually have to give back.

The Inner Voice Poverty Leaves Behind

And then there is the inner voice.

People who never grew up poor may not understand this voice. They may think self-doubt is just a lack of confidence. But for many of us, it is deeper than that. It is not just fear. It is a voice built from years of being told, directly or indirectly, where we belonged.

That voice says:

Who do you think you are?

People like you do not make it.

You are not educated enough.

You are not polished enough.

You are not smart enough.

You are going to fail, and everyone will see it.

That voice is evil because it does not always shout. Sometimes it whispers. It shows up when you are about to try something new. It shows up when you fill out an application, start a business, write a book, speak in public, or reach for something bigger than the life you came from.

It tells you to stay small.

Not because small is safe, but because small is familiar.

That is one of the cruelest lessons poverty teaches a child. It makes survival feel normal and success feel unnatural.

When you grow up poor, you may spend years fighting battles other people cannot see. You may sit in a room with people who have degrees, confidence, family support, and a history of being encouraged, while you are silently fighting the feeling that you do not belong there.

You may be fully capable and still feel like an impostor.

You may be hardworking and still feel behind.

You may achieve something meaningful and still hear that old voice saying, “Don’t get too comfortable.”

That is what poverty does physiologically and emotionally. It trains the body for stress. It teaches the mind to scan for danger. It makes the future feel uncertain, even when the present is stable. It can make a grown adult react to life from the fear of a child who once had no control.

Why Poverty Is Often Mistaken for Weakness

And the sad part is, many people mistake those scars for weakness.

They see hesitation and call it laziness.

They see fear and call it lack of ambition.

They see someone struggling to believe in themselves and say, “Just work harder.”

But working hard was never the problem.

That is also why I believe the phrase “just work harder” does not tell the whole truth. I explain that more fully in The Truth About “Working Hard” and Why It Fails When It Comes to Poverty.

Most poor people I knew worked hard. They worked tired. They worked sick. They worked with sore backs, worn-out hands, and bills waiting at home. The problem was never a lack of effort. The problem was that poverty teaches you to carry a weight before you are old enough to understand what that weight is.

A child growing up in poverty often enters adulthood already tired.

Not physically tired from one bad day, but deeply tired from years of uncertainty, embarrassment, fear, and quiet survival.

And yet, here is the truth that matters.

That inner voice is not always telling the truth.

It may sound familiar, but familiar does not mean true.

Just because poverty told you that you were less than others does not mean you are. Just because you started behind does not mean you cannot move forward. Just because no one prepared you for success does not mean success is impossible.

I had to learn that the hard way.

There were many times in my life when I did not feel qualified. I did not feel confident. I did not feel like I belonged in the room. But I kept going anyway. Sometimes courage is not loud. Sometimes courage is simply taking the next step while that old voice is still whispering that you cannot.

One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was not to take every setback personally. I wrote about that lesson in How To Escape Poverty By Not Taking Things Personally.

Poverty May Shape a Child, But It Does Not Have to Own the Adult

That is what people need to understand about children who grow up poor.

They are not broken.

They are burdened.

There is a difference.

A broken person cannot be repaired. A burdened person can learn to set some of that weight down.

But it takes time. It takes truth. It takes someone finally saying, “What happened to you mattered, but it does not get to decide everything about your future.”

The scars of poverty are real. Some of them stay with you for life. But scars are also proof that something tried to destroy you and failed.

That child who grew up afraid, embarrassed, hungry, cold, or ashamed was not weak.

That child survived.

And maybe the most powerful thing we can do as adults is go back and speak to that child inside us with the words we needed to hear years ago:

You are not stupid.

You are not less than anyone else.

You are not trapped by where you started.

You are allowed to want more.

You are allowed to succeed.

And yes, you are capable of becoming someone poverty never gave you permission to imagine.

That belief matters because escaping poverty begins long before the outside world sees the results. I wrote more about that in Why Believing in Yourself Matters When You’re Trying to Escape Poverty.

Poverty may shape a child, but it does not have to own the adult.

That old inner voice may still whisper from time to time.

But now I know something it never wanted me to learn.

It was wrong.

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Poverty Does Not Just Disappear: What Carbon Hill Taught Me About Survival

 

Poverty Does Not Just Disappear Because Someone Leaves Town

I recently came across a video that made me think about where I came from, what poverty does to people, and how easy it is for outsiders to judge a place they have never had to survive in.

The video is not mine. I did not create it, and I do not claim ownership of it. I am including it here because it connects with something I write about often: poverty, survival, hard choices, and the way people can be trapped by circumstances long before anyone sees the final result.

Rural America in Crisis!! 15 Remote Alabama Towns

When I watch something like this, I do not just see a video. I see reminders of places like the one I came from.

Carbon Hill, Alabama is the town I grew up in.

I left there more than 50 years ago, but what troubles me is that the poverty did not leave with me. Depending on the data source, Carbon Hill’s poverty rate is still reported around 35.3%, and some current Census-based estimates place it even higher, around 39.4%. Alabama’s poverty rate is roughly 15–16%, which means Carbon Hill’s poverty level is still more than double the state level.

That is not just a statistic.

That is a way of life.

That is children growing up with fewer choices before they are old enough to understand what choices even are. That is families trying to stretch money that was never enough to begin with. That is people being told to “just work harder” when hard work was never the missing ingredient.

I know because I lived it.

Poverty is not only about empty pockets. It is about pressure. It is about shame. It is about watching other people move forward while you are still trying to survive the week. It is about learning early that some mistakes cost more when you are poor than they do when you have money.

A person with money can make a bad decision and call it a lesson.

A poor person can make the same decision and spend years trying to recover from it.

That is one of the things people often fail to understand. Poverty does not just limit what you can buy. It limits how much room you have to fail.

When I think about Carbon Hill, I do not think about it with hatred. I think about it with memory. I remember the people. I remember the struggle. I remember what it felt like to want something more but not always know how to reach it.

Leaving a poor town does not mean you stop carrying it with you.

Sometimes you leave physically, but emotionally you are still connected to the place that shaped you. You remember the roads, the houses, the faces, the quiet desperation, and the people who were doing the best they could with what little they had.

That is why poverty should never be discussed as if it is simply a personal failure.

Yes, people make choices. Yes, personal responsibility matters. But responsibility does not erase reality. If a town remains trapped in high poverty for generations, that tells us something bigger is happening than individual laziness.

It tells us opportunity is missing.

It tells us education may not be enough by itself.

It tells us jobs may not pay enough.

It tells us families are passing down survival habits because survival is what they know.

And it tells us that leaving poverty is rarely as simple as people make it sound.

I was fortunate enough to leave. But leaving did not make me forget. If anything, it made me understand it more clearly.

When you are inside poverty, you are often too busy surviving to analyze it. You do not sit around thinking about economic systems, generational disadvantage, or social mobility. You think about food, bills, transportation, where to find your next paycheck, embarrassment, and how to get through the next problem.

Only later, if you make it out, do you begin to understand how much of your life was shaped by forces you could not see at the time.

That is why I write about poverty.

Not to make excuses.

Not to blame everyone else.

And not to pretend poor people have no responsibility for their lives.

I write about poverty because too many people talk about it without understanding it. They reduce it to slogans. They say things like, “Work hard,” “Make better choices,” or “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.”

But if that were all it took, towns like Carbon Hill would not still have poverty rates more than double the state average after all these years. 

Yes, Hard work matters. But I KNOW that most folks in Carbon Hill work hard.

Choices matter. 

Discipline matters. Especially lifestyle choice like drugs and alcohol.

But opportunity matters too. In rural towns across America, many have little or no opportunity.

A stable home matters.

Reliable transportation matters.

Good schools matter.

Safe neighborhoods matter.

A living wage matters.

Encouragement matters.

And hope matters more than people realize.

When hope disappears, people stop planning for the future. They start living day to day. That is one of the most dangerous parts of poverty. It teaches people to survive the moment instead of build a life.

That is not weakness.

That is conditioning.

The video above made me think about all of this because stories like these are rarely just about one person, one town, or one moment. They are about the deeper conditions that shape people long before the world notices them.

Carbon Hill is part of my story.

Poverty is part of my story.

But it is not the whole story.

The whole story is about survival, struggle, leaving, learning, and trying to make sense of it all years later. It is about understanding that some people escape poverty, but many others are still standing in the same place, facing the same battles, generation after generation.

That should bother us.

It bothers me.

Because I know what it feels like to come from a place where poverty is not an abstract idea. It is in the houses. It is in the schools. It is in the choices people make. It is in the opportunities they never had. It is in the quiet belief that maybe life is just supposed to be hard.

But life should not have to stay that way.

And the first step toward changing anything is telling the truth about it.

Carbon Hill still matters to me because it helped shape who I became. But the poverty there should not be accepted as normal. No town should have generation after generation of people living under that kind of struggle and have the rest of the world shrug as if nothing can be done.

Poverty is not just a number.

It is a life people are trying to survive.

And some of us know that life because we came from it.

The Truth About “Working Hard” and Why It Fails When It Comes to Poverty

People love to say, “Just work hard and you’ll make it.”

I understand why they say it. Hard work matters. I’m not against hard work. I believe in getting up, showing up, doing the job, and doing what has to be done. I’ve worked in some kind of job since I was eight years old.

But here’s the truth people don’t like to talk about:

Working hard by itself will not always get you out of poverty.

You can work your fingers to the bone and still end up living paycheck to paycheck.

You can put in long hours, take every overtime shift, miss birthdays, skip vacations, wear out your body, and still have nothing left to show for it at the end of the month. That doesn’t mean you’re lazy. It doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means the system you’re working in may only be paying you enough to survive, not enough to get ahead.

There’s a big difference between surviving and escaping.  Most minimum-wage jobs are not designed to help you escape poverty. They may help you survive, but survival is not the same as freedom  They're only meant as starter jobs, for surviving, not escaping.

Why Poverty is so Expensive.

When you’re poor, life charges you extra.

If your car breaks down, you may not have the money to fix it properly, so you patch it together until it breaks again. If you don’t have cash, you borrow. If you borrow, you pay interest. If you miss a payment, you pay fees. If your credit is bad, everything costs more. Rent costs more. Insurance costs more. Loans cost more.

That’s the part many people with money don’t understand. They think poverty is just a spending problem. Sometimes it is. But often it’s a margin problem. There is no cushion. There is no safety net. There is no breathing room. Living paycheck to paycheck feels like you're suffocating.  I know because I've been there.

A person with money can make a bad decision and recover.

A poor person can make one bad decision and pay for it for the next ten years.

That’s why the old advice, “Just work harder,” is not enough.

Hard work may help you keep food on the table. It may help you pay the light bill. It may help you get through the week. But if all your hard work does is make someone else richer while you stay tired, stressed, and broke, then hard work has become a trap.

People with money understand something poor people often were never taught.

They don’t just work for money.

They make money work for them.

How People With Money Make Money While They Sleep

While one person is working overtime, another person has money sitting in a 401(k), retirement account, investment account, business, rental property, or some other asset that keeps growing while they sleep. They can be on vacation, eating dinner with their family, riding a motorcycle, playing golf, or enjoying life, and their money is still working. I personally have earned tens of thousands of dollars  from my 401k - the key to that is patience.  Not taking it out too early or you'll pay a hefty amount to the IRS come tax time.

That is a completely different world.

The poor man sells his time.

The wealthy man builds assets. You do not need to be wealthy to start building. If you find a job with a 401(k) match, take advantage of it if you can. Employer matching is one of the few times someone is giving you extra money for your future.

I understand not everyone can spare money right now. When you are barely surviving, even a few dollars can feel impossible. But the goal is to start looking for small places where money is leaking out, then redirect even a little of it toward your future.  Maybe it's time to consider your lifestyle.  If something is draining your money — alcohol, drugs, gambling, smoking, bad relationships, or anything else — get help if you need it. I’m not saying that to judge anyone. I’m saying it because every dollar matters when you’re trying to climb out.  Believe me, your small 401k will grow over time.  The more money you have in a 401k, the faster it will grow.  Now, you can also lose money in a 401k because it works both ways, but with safe choices and patience, it will grow back over time.

Hard Work, Smart Work, and Ownership

That does not mean wealthy people never worked hard. Many of them did. But somewhere along the way, they learned how to turn work into ownership. They learned how to make money earn money. They learned how to use retirement plans, compound interest, investments, property, business ownership, and tax advantages.

Meanwhile, many poor people were only taught one thing:

Get a job. Work hard. Pay your bills. Shut up and be grateful.

That advice may keep you alive.

But it may not set you free.

I want to be clear about something. I am not a financial expert. I’m not giving professional investment advice. Anything I say about money should be taken as general information, not as personal financial advice or a reason to invest in anything. Before making serious financial decisions, talk to real experts and study people who have spent their lives teaching this stuff, such as Dave Ramsey at daveramsey.com and ramseysolutions.com, or Suze Orman.

But from my own life, I can tell you this:

Hard work without direction can wear you out. It's just exhausting.

Hard work without knowledge can keep you poor.

Hard work without ownership can make someone else rich.

That’s a hard truth, but it is still the truth.

If you are poor, you may already be working hard. You may be working harder than people who judge you. You may be carrying stress they have never felt. You may be making impossible choices every month.

Pay the rent or fix the car?

Buy medicine or pay the electric bill?

Put gas in the tank or buy groceries?

That is not laziness.

That is survival.

But survival cannot be the final goal.

At some point, the question has to change from, “How do I get through this week?” to “How do I build something that helps me next year?”

That might mean learning a skill. It might mean getting out of debt. It might mean starting a small side business. It might mean improving your credit. It might mean saving even a small amount. It might mean learning about retirement accounts, budgeting, investing, insurance, or taxes. It might mean saying no to people who keep pulling you backward.

It does not happen overnight.

And it is not easy.

When you start from poverty, every step takes more effort. You are not starting from the same line as everyone else. Some people are born halfway up the mountain and then brag about how well they climb. Others start in a hole and get criticized for not reaching the top fast enough.

That’s why I don’t believe in shaming poor people.

But I also don’t believe in lying to them.

Sure, hard work matters.

But hard work alone is not enough.

You need knowledge. You need discipline. You need a plan. You need better habits. You need to understand money. You need to avoid debt traps. You need to stop thinking only like a worker and start thinking like an owner.

Because if all you ever do is trade hours for dollars, there will always be limitations.

There are only so many hours in a day.

There is only so much your body can take.

There is only so long you can work your fingers to the bone before your hands, your back, your mind, or your spirit gives out.

The goal should not be to work yourself to death.

The goal should be to work in a way that builds something.

Build skills. If you can't afford college or special courses, take a look at my blog post about learning new skills. Start by investing in yourself.

Build savings.

Build credit.

Build ownership.

Build a business.

Build a future.

Build something that keeps working even when you’re tired.

That’s the difference between staying poor and slowly climbing out.

So no, I don’t believe “working hard” is a lie.

But I do believe it is only part of the truth.

The full truth is this:

Hard work may help you survive poverty.
Smart work may help you escape poverty.
Ownership may help you stay out of poverty.

And once you understand that, you stop asking, “How can I work harder?”

You start asking a better question:

How can I make my hard work finally pay me back?

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Poverty in the US

Why Poverty Isn’t a Personal Failure

I know that poverty isn't a personal failure because I lived it.

This blog exists because poverty in America is often talked about by people who never had to survive it. The advice is usually simple, the judgments are quick, and the reality is missing.

This is my attempt to tell the truth—plainly, carefully, and without pretending it’s easy. Growing up, I often told myself, there's got to be an easier way.

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Why I’m Writing This

I grew up poor. Not “tight budget” poor. Real poor—the kind that shapes how you think, what you fear, and what choices even feel possible.

For a long time, survival was the goal. Not success. Not fulfillment. Just making it through.

Eventually, I found a way out—but it wasn’t fast, clean, or predictable. And it didn’t happen because I suddenly “worked harder.” It happened because I learned things no one had ever explained to me.

This blog is where I write those things down.

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What You’ll Find Here

I write about:

• What growing up poor actually does to you—mentally, emotionally, and practically

• The hidden rules of poverty that don’t show up in school or self-help books

• Mistakes I made that kept me stuck longer than necessary

• Choices that helped me move from survival to stability

• Why escaping poverty often costs more than people admit

Some posts are stories.
Some are reflections.
Some are uncomfortable truths.

All of them come from lived experience.

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What This Blog Is Not

This is not a how-to-get-rich blog.
This is not a motivation blog.
It’s not a hustle culture space.
It’s not about blaming people for where they start.

I don’t believe poverty is a moral failure.
I also don’t believe escape happens by accident.

Both things can be true.

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Who This Is For

This blog is for:

• People who grew up poor and feel like they’re still carrying it with them

• People trying to figure out a realistic path forward, not a fantasy one

• People who made it out and want to understand what that journey took

• Anyone willing to listen instead of judge

If you’ve ever felt behind before the race even started, you’ll probably recognize yourself here.

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Why This Matters

A lot of survival knowledge never gets written down. It gets lost when people are too tired, too busy, or too ashamed to talk about it.

I don’t want that knowledge to disappear.

If something I learned the hard way can shorten someone else’s struggle—even a little—then writing this is worth it.

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Start Reading

If you’re new, start at the beginning. The early posts explain where I came from and how poverty shaped my life.

This blog isn’t about pretending everything turns out fine.

It’s about understanding the terrain well enough to find a way through it.

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A Quiet Invitation

I publish when I have something real to say.

No spam. No hype. No pretending.

Just honest writing about poverty, survival, and the long road toward a better life.

You’re welcome here.

Get New Posts by Email

I write about poverty, survival, hard lessons, and building a better life.

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Subscribe to New Posts

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