Carol Kirkpatrick, possibly the brightest writer I ever met in a writing group (proof positive being her ability to scribble out a pithy, brilliantly crafted story on the spot) had the additional charm of treating me to an oral history of Brooklyn whenever we walked its streets together. Combining warmth, depth, humor, and subtlety well into her 90s, she will always represent perfectly what I’d like to be when I grow up. My hope is to charm you with this sample of her writing:
When Shabby Wasn’t Chic
There used to be a class in American life known as “shabby genteel.” It included teachers, some university professors, artists, writers, musicians, and other professionals whose single-minded devotion to their crafts had resulted in their economically falling behind their family and peers whose incomes placed them in the upper middle class bracket.
For children growing up in this milieu, life could be confusing. Since income is a major determinant of where you live, the majority of our schoolmates came from families who were more middle middle class or financially comfortable blue collar. They understood…ably viewed us as mutants. We accused them of being ignorant, intolerant, or “common.”
