The memories from my MIL about my girlfriends mother and then hearing the same story told by my girlfriend’s memory of her mother stories are hilarious.  Both mother’s oldest sons are the same age but the mothers are 12 years different in age.  Hearing the story of raising the boys in the same neighborhood is unbelievable.  One view says they dress their children like poor orphans.  The other view sees the older mother looking like a call girl because she is always dressed up and wearing makeup.  Having card clubs with cocktails and the other explaining how you couldn’t carry on a conversation with someone who’s only knowledge was cleaning, cooking and gardening.  Matters of government and world policies never seemed to enter their heads.  Age, education, jobs, and income have a great influence on dividing neighbors into classes even in a small town.  Growing up I heard terms like Little Italy, Shanty Town, the Projects etc., yet never saw these lines of demarcations as I crossed them daily with my many friendships.  I think only once, did a teacher refer to growing up on the hill and looking down on us, when he brought up a subject of income variation in teaching, using my home as an example.  Another when my grandfather asked why I couldn’t bring home a nice Irish boy, which of course raised my Irish temper as I gave him the answer in a truthful manner which he couldn’t deny.  Times were a changing as we were living and growing up but never realized.  You can never see the forest when you are living among the trees.