The Lessons My Parents Taught Me About Gratitude — and How They Led Me Here

Some of my earliest memories aren’t about toys or holidays.

They’re about stories.

My parents often shared pieces of their own childhoods with my sisters and me — stories about how hard things had been for them growing up.

They wanted us to understand struggle.

Not to scare us, but to help us appreciate what we had, even when it wasn’t much.

Those conversations shaped me.

They taught me to notice.

They taught me to be thankful.

They taught me that behind every smile, there might be a story you don’t see.

In later years, when I had my own children, those lessons took on new meaning. I began to see the world through a parent’s eyes — how deeply you want to protect your kids, how hard you work to give them stability, and how easily circumstances beyond your control can affect a family.

And then, while volunteering at my children’s school, I saw it.

I saw kids trying to learn on empty stomachs.

I saw students rubbing their eyes, distracted and tired, doing their best to keep up.

I saw families stretching groceries and making impossible choices.

What struck me most was how quiet it all was.

These kids weren’t asking for help. Many were polite, well-behaved, and eager to please. From the outside, everything looked fine. But inside, they were carrying worries far too big for small shoulders.

That’s when I realized something had to change.

Backpack Society started at my kitchen table with one simple goal: make sure kids had food when school wasn’t in session. I couldn’t solve everything, but I could start there.

Over time, that small beginning grew into a nonprofit serving schools and families across our community.

Along the way, I’ve watched children light up when they realize they won’t go hungry over the weekend.

I’ve seen parents release a breath they’ve been holding for far too long. I’ve met teachers who quietly advocate for their students every single day.

I’ve also learned that hunger doesn’t just affect bodies.

It affects confidence.

It affects learning.

It affects how children see themselves.

And those moments stayed with me.

Eventually, they became Benny’s Tummy Monster.

I wanted to tell a story that feels gentle but honest. A story that helps children name hard feelings, and helps adults recognize when something might not be quite right. A story for kids who struggle silently — and for the people who care about them.

This book is for the children who show up even when things are hard.

For parents doing their best with what they have.

And for communities that choose kindness.

Thank you for being here — and for caring about stories that matter.

— June M. Everett