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14 | May 11, 2017 | The highland park landmark sound off<br />
hplandmark.com<br />
Writing Life<br />
A matter of class in Highland Park<br />
Wendy S. Anderson<br />
Contributing Columnist<br />
Living in a wealthy<br />
suburb presents<br />
clarifying moments<br />
that could be attributed to<br />
class.<br />
On a recent Saturday<br />
I walked my dog by a<br />
house where three men<br />
and some kids were<br />
gathered outside. One<br />
man animatedly talked<br />
to someone on his cell<br />
phone about someone<br />
else “with a lot of connections.”<br />
Another was<br />
doing tasks with his boys.<br />
A third ambled down<br />
the sidewalk with his<br />
big, loose dog, which<br />
ran straight to my small,<br />
unappreciative leashed<br />
dog, to sniff him all over.<br />
I was caught in the midst<br />
of this scene, literally entwined<br />
with the dogs and<br />
within a few feet of the<br />
three men as they greeted<br />
one another.<br />
No one acknowledged<br />
me in any way; it was as<br />
if I wasn’t there. Were<br />
they so wrapped in their<br />
togetherness they forgot<br />
to be polite? Or was I not<br />
worth a nod?<br />
This situation put me<br />
back to when my children<br />
were small and I’d<br />
wait for them outside<br />
Ravinia School. Many<br />
moms would chat freely,<br />
yet there were a few who<br />
had a practiced aloofness,<br />
a way of looking<br />
right through you, as if<br />
you weren’t there. They<br />
did this even when they<br />
walked by within a few<br />
inches, even if your kids<br />
had been at the same<br />
birthday party the day<br />
before. Whether you<br />
didn’t drive the right car<br />
or live in the right house<br />
or wear the right clothes,<br />
something about you, or<br />
everything about you, did<br />
not pass muster.<br />
One apparently misinformed<br />
mom invited<br />
herself to my place for<br />
coffee.<br />
Although I lived in<br />
coveted east Highland<br />
Park, my home had not<br />
changed dramatically<br />
from the time it had been<br />
a summer cottage for city<br />
dwellers — a few<br />
rooms, low beamed ceilings,<br />
a Franklin stove.<br />
What I found quaint and<br />
charming, she found tiny<br />
and alarming, I could<br />
tell at once. We spent an<br />
uneasy hour in awkward<br />
conversation. When I<br />
next saw her, she was<br />
decidedly cooler. I was<br />
not the person she’d<br />
imagined.<br />
Highland Park is full<br />
of such stories. A friend<br />
who works in child care<br />
said she suggested to a<br />
mom, whose girl wore<br />
very pricy, slippery and<br />
impractical boots,<br />
that the mom consider<br />
buying the child sneakers,<br />
someplace like Target,<br />
for active playtimes. The<br />
mom’s decisive response?<br />
“I don’t buy shoes at<br />
Target.”<br />
This reminded me of<br />
when my little girl and<br />
I were at Target. We ran<br />
into a fellow kindergartner<br />
with her grandma,<br />
their cart full of cleaners<br />
and other household<br />
items. When the girl<br />
asked to look at some<br />
clothes, her grandma<br />
snapped, “We don’t buy<br />
clothes at Target.” The<br />
child looked crestfallen.<br />
My own daughter said<br />
she felt sorry for the<br />
classmate because her<br />
grandmother was mean.<br />
She did not understand<br />
that the woman was only<br />
asserting her class.<br />
Way back when I<br />
worked for the local<br />
paper, I got calls from<br />
residents who demanded<br />
that their names, or their<br />
wives’ names, or their<br />
kids’ names, be kept out<br />
of print for whatever<br />
driving offense they’d<br />
committed, from speeding<br />
to a DUI. Some offered<br />
to pay. The assumption<br />
was that they were<br />
entitled to have a legal<br />
embarrassment erased.<br />
The police reports in<br />
our community these<br />
days seem to contain a<br />
disproportionate number<br />
of Hispanic-sounding<br />
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