Growing up in a small town in West Texas, the idea of class was always one prevalent around my home. We were--as best as I can tell--Middle Class, and moderately well off; however, my father's work drew him close to many affluent clients. Ergo, I was constantly associating with people from the "Upper Class." As a youngster, I would rarely notice a difference between myself and my wealthier friends, but eventually I began to see a few inconsistencies. The name-brand clothes they would wear, the homes they lived in, and eventually the cars they drove all presented a dramatic contrast to the lifestyle I had grown to know and love. It also didn't help that my father's brother (who had a child in my grade) was a huge oilman and one of the wealthiest cats in town. I always felt like I was from a lower class than many of my friends and for a while I was very self-conscious about keeping up with the Jones' so to speak...
In retrospect, I was a very stupid kid for concerning myself over these things, as now I realize how well off I was in comparison to most. Something about a small town atmosphere makes you feel tragically aware of and concerned with social position. The nature of my hometown led to a prodigious amount of gossip and an unspeakably efficient grapevine. With everyone knowing every one's business, the amount of money you had was essentially common knowledge. In subtle ways, it was a remarkably snobby city; one where people were judged based on their class and income. There was little intermingling amongst the groups, but I rarely considered this anything other than the norm. Old families with old money also played an important role in structuring the top tier of society. They were the chief instigators of class prejudice--often tied to racial prejudice.
