The Problem With THE CLUB

SOCIO-ECONOMIC DIVERSITY! Yes, most treat it as if it is dirty linen, but I am brave enough to superficially examine it in one little blog. (wink)


Country Clubs are usually the symbolic edifix of exclusion and snobbery. But a funny thing happened to alot of CCs on the way out of the 80s...they decided to embrace most 'haves' (semi-regardless of race)while continuing to shun the 'have-nots'. Don't get one wrong- CCs have membership fees so that they know people are serious about attempting to 'belong'. But having a Community Day each year may also help those who 'have' appreciate more what they have. Of course, some do join the Club in order to ignore the 'have-nots': I have been snickered at on more than one occasion for volunteering outside of the fund-raising season.

So here I was summering in the same city I live in, roped into being a mentor for one of the clueless children of the elite. Etiquette was key and I was afforded much more time than Professor Higgins to make a "silk purse out of the sow's ear". Her mother had not a clue how to seat a table, nor that there was more than one type of setting for a dinner party (I am familiar with French, Hong Kong, English, American Southern and New England). I was working from scratch. For those of you whom don't know, there is a larger-than-one-might-think community of ex-pat Louisianians here in Northeastern Ohio...and the Creole folkways are kicking until their last breath! I was recruited for my knowledge and my pedigree, as I am the granddaughter of Canary DeClarvoy Jackson, nee Rosseaux. I believe I once mentioned in this blog my Irish-Canadian paternal grandfather, born in Northern Ireland; relocated outside of Vancouver, BC as a toddler; left Canada in his twenties for The Land of Riches? I may or may not have mention my paternal grandmother and her family's relocation 'to pass' in Ohio as Whites...it's really quite boring.

I helped the young lady as best one could since she seemed so fascinated by those things low-brow as so many are these days. I'm all for high-low fashion but my culture and arts should remain ninety-percent HIGH. It was a mixed cotillion, as some of her friends have not been 'debuted'. We planned trips for the debutantes to influence a sense of community for the metropolitan region and to let them learn that having fun does not mean forgetting your manners. Some of you readers may be thinking "I hope she doesn't drown when it rains", but I would rather one know and do as one pleases than never to know at all! Life is about choices; how many can you make without all the information, all the options?

The big day arrived and to supervise the setup I wore my Lily (Pulitzer) Jacqueline sateen dress, a pair of Martinez Valero pink satin high heel sandals and a big pink CZ cocktail ring I got from one of my internet sources (I can't give away all!). We really just sipped herbal tea and patted ourselves on the back for going with the dried flowers in nets as decor and keepsakes. I almost wore something dark and gloomy that evening as I was remembering my cotillion and how many of my friends 'mourned' their 'flowers'. But I hoped for the best and settled on my Miss Sixty Jennifer silver dress, a pair of grey pearl cluster earrings, and my Bulova stainless steel and crystal section watch, with my metallic magazine clutch and my Dolce & Gabbana metallic grommet pumps from AGES ago. They were best at running down escaping debs in wayward boys' cars. This left no room for an awful comparison between the "new debs" and the "former debs" as we had been relegated. There was not a "former deb" there under twenty-eight and we felt like they were calling us "Ma'am" all night.

I decided to study people as a useful distraction from my obvious feminine mortality. As I stood by the windows leading out to the greens, I noticed one of the wait staff making his way through the crowd. He was a fair/tan Latino with this full beautiful mouth and those "darker than ebony" eyes that make me melt. He was focused on feeding the laughing, scrutinizing masses (I remember that cotillion better than you might think!). I imagined myself a different woman with different morals, wisking him onto the greens without a care or inhibition- for seven seconds. Then I returned to my regular fantasy, the one bred into every deb...dinner, conversation about the upcoming election (how did HE think the Latino vote would go?), and staring into his deeply dark eyes. I stared into eyes that dark before for six months and awakened with a heartache he swore was normal. Apparently I was not the only one he locked eyes with.

I began to wonder how I might let him know I was 'open' to getting to know him: everyone was smiling; many politely acknowledged him; 'did I dare ask his name?' Then I stopped- how would I let him know I was interested at work? We were both, in fact, working: I as a mentor he as food service. And just as I said 'food service' to myself, that other part of my breeding came back...noblesse oblige. "You can't date THE HELP!" I heard a catty cousin say from my subconscious. "You are BETTER than that." I stood up to the spectre from my youth, 'I AM better than that- that is why I CAN date THE HELP.' Then something a little different than latent snobbery reared its head...it was realism. 'How many Paul Stuart suits, Brooks Brothers' vintage polos, Orvis chinos, Ralph Lauren shirts and Durham leather deck shoes would make him at ease around my friends and ex-sorority sister's husbands?' 'Or' I reasoned, 'Would he live in Seven 4 All Mankind Jeans and the latest tees?' 'And why am I buying his clothes? Don't I think he has something to wear other than his steward tux?!' With all that yelling at myself about a hypothetical, I completely missed his tray passing and never got another chance to grab a coin-sized quiche that evening. Serves me right!




I 'date poor' (as my friends call it) quite often. Everything is so much easier when the world shrinks to just you two...it's the socializing that so often kills a relationship. Our families, friends, are dear to us. They are our social credentials. I guess whether a mixed socio-economic relationship works has more to do with personal dedication and tenacity than how far apart you are on the financial ladder...