The first time I remember seeing a mansion, I was headed to the Assiniboine Park Zoo in Winnipeg with a friend assigned to me by a charity that paired adults with poor kids whose parents needed a break. I turned to this nice middle-class woman, who patiently tolerated my endless questions, and asked how many families lived in the giant houses we were passing. Their lawns could practically fit the entire government-run townhouse complex where I lived.
She laughed and said, “Just one.” And we both fell silent for a while as we took in what that meant.
