One insult too far: America’s class war, one prole at a time

[Donnachaidh]

http://smirkingchimp.com/thread/laura-harrison-mcbride/39141/one-insult-too-far-america-s-class-war-one-prole-at-a-time

For many of us raised in lower middle-class families, our aspirations to more―more wealth, more recognition, more luxury, more acceptance by the upper class―were sated somewhat during the nation’s economic good times. We were able, for a minute, to forget that we really were one pay check or contract from the streets, as our parents might have been but for unions. We were able, for a minute, to pretend to be part of the beautiful people, however we defined the term.

This, friends, is another mea culpa which I hope will be instructive to those who fail to support OWS (Occupy Wall Street) in every possible way. I am, I think, very much an Everywoman in this, or if not Every, at least Verymanywoman.

Heady times on the East Side
As much as I hate to admit it, we attended church in the late 1970s and early 1980s, and not just any church, THE Episcopal Church in Manhattan, St. Thomas. It is beautiful, a French Gothic cathedral nestled amongst the international boutiques of Fifth Avenue. We lived nearby, on the WEST side. Still, it was only an eight-minute walk. (Later, we moved on up to the East Side, still one contract―we were freelancers―away from living in a packing crate over a warm, if odiferous, sewer grate, like the wheezing fat woman who slept in hers beneath the buttresses of OUR church.)

We loved the church. It was hard not to. The Rector was a supremely well-educated, well-connected and absolutely rigorous Englishman who seemed to appreciate our slightly off-kilter reactions to things, our willingness to serve, and our ability to use the proper fork. He appointed us to all sorts of things―us being me and my second husband. We were happy; it seemed we had been accepted, and all we had to do was genuflect and contribute.

More at the link --