All The Right People

Though my parents weren't poor, they were certainly on the lower end of the spectrum of middle class. Both worked for the government, both had middle grade jobs, and money was never in long supply. Yet because they valued my education, they sacrificed financially (and in many other ways) to give me a private school education. It was there that I dwelled for my first six years. It was there that I was exposed to the "Right People."

It was an invaluable experience. Not only did I receive a lot of personal attention academically,I was also groomed for "polite" society. And I hung around wealth ... serious wealth.

All of my school friends were rich, and many of them came from power. One lived on a plantation built by Lord Fairfax. Another's family owned a castle, an 81 foot yacht and a 72 foot schooner. Another's father was press secretary to a President. There were many more of similar breeding.

And these associations, along with the education that accompanied it, stood me well in the years that followed. I acquired a sense of self-esteem and confidence that allowed my to go anywhere, and always feel in place. I held public office. I knew Governors and Senators on first name basis. "Serious Money" financed my political campaigns and gave to others I supported. In short, I lived among the "in" crowd, and I belonged.

Yet, I belonged elsewhere, too. At the same time that I was being "groomed", my childhood also included close associations with those whose economy more closely resembled my own. It was with these playmates that I attended movies, with whom I played sandlot baseball, and with whom I hung around in the evenings as we'd gather on our front porch steps. That too was my world, and one in which I also felt comfortable.

As I daily added chapters to the book of my life, not all of my experiences were in the land of milk and honey. Many pages were written about times with the more common of us, the sharing of a pitcher of beer in a dank ghetto bar, of friends in jail or out of work, of people whose lives were barely more than day-to-day. I belonged in these chapters, too, even though the inhabitants would hardly have been considered, "the right crowd."

Now as I reflect upon all of those times, both the richer and the poorer, the contrasts and the similarities are vivid. Each environment has its own sparkle and its own tarnish. Neither was perfect.

But one thing stands out way against the rest, and its the one thing that prompts me to write all of this rhetoric. It is that despite their hardships and pain, the people from the "wrong" side always seemed happier. They were more real. They were more trustworthy. They were almost always less self-centered.

Certainly there have been exceptions, but not many, and now as I look back, I wonder why? What is it about wealth that seems to breed arrogance? What is it that causes people of privilage to believe that among those privilages is the inherant right to superiority? Having lived interchangibly in both worlds, I've seen it time and time again, and find it remarkable that people of privilage are malcontent, and people who are less privilaged seem satisfied.

I am not implying that the poorer of us don't want to improve. To the contrary, I have witnessed thousands who have devoted their lives to improvement ... improving their housing , their incomes, their children's future, their lives. But to the extent that they miss a goal or two (or maybe more), their sense of personal self seems to remain in tact. They remain happy, friendly, charitable, even if at times, it is only be degree.

The wealthy, on the the other hand seem overtly ambitious. The are frequently aloof, mean spirited, and agressive. They expect success, even demand it, and if they don't get it, they are often viscious in their response. They can be pretentious. They are often haughty and condescending. And most of all, much of their happiness seems phony.

I don't want this to be taken as a broad, all-incompassing indictment. Believe me, having lived interchangibly, I can recall exceptions in either instance. But not many; not nearly as many as I would have expected.

So now that I've traveled for six decades, and I give thanks for the places I've seen and the people I've met, though I'm thankful to my parents for the education I received, and thankful for the opportunity to have mingled among the elite, my greater thanks is to the friends I've had who have walked a tougher path, those "poorer" among us, who no matter their plight and despite their limitations, were honest and sincere, could smile in the face of their own adversity, and were always there when needed. Time has proven that these were truly the "Right People," and I'm glad to have been among them.