What did you do? Where do you live?
Back in 1980 when I was being interviewed for a new job one member of the interview panel asked me "just who exactly is Michael Povey?"
The question threw me off guard. Then I realised that I was not being asked about my skills, knowledge, accomplishments and experience. I was being asked about my soul.
'Twas a rare question. When being interviewed for a job, or when in retirement meeting a new person one is much more likely to be asked "what did you do?", or "where are you from?"
"What did you do?" That's easy for me. My confession that I was a parish Priest in the Episcopal Church speaks highly of my respectability. (If only they knew).
"Where do you live?" That's a subtle and class based question in Sarasota.
Should I reply with Bird Key, or St. Armands, or Lido Shores, or Siesta Key, or even "west of the trail" ( homes west of the Tamiami Trail and close to Sarasota Bay) my interlocutor is immediate reassured as to my class and prosperity. He/she knows that I am of the right sort.
But when I say "I live in Glen Oaks Ridge" the response is a blank stare. My questioner is baffled. She/he has never heard of Glen Oaks Ridge. That lack of knowledge handicaps his/her assessment of my worth.
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It's all about tribalism.
I understand this phenomenon well from my up-bringing in east Bristol, UK.
East of the city centre was an area called St. Paul's, replete with elegant Georgian and Victorian houses, the homes of 19th Century mercantile class (but a bit run down in my time).
St. Paul's morphed into Easton, an area with "two up-two down" late Victorian era row houses. There the factory workers and shop workers lived in homes with no hot running water, and no indoor plumbing, but with a "dog in the manger" working class sensibility. Easton was, in the minds of the respectable classes, a bit sub-par.
Easton had and has no fixed boundaries, but generally speaking it is an area to the north and south of Stapleton Rd., emerging from St. Paul's in the west and morphing into Eastville and Greenbank in the east.
My Mum grew up in Easton.
My Dad grew up in Eastville (back then a slightly more respectable area than Easton) (we are talking about the 1930's).
Mum and Dad bought a house in east Bristol, south of the old London, Midland and Scottish Railway Line. There we were raised. Three up and three down, but with no hot running water, and with an outdoor "lav". Just like Easton
There I was raised. But my parents were clear. We did not live in Easton. We lived in Whitehall, boundaried to the west by Easton, to the north by Greenbank, and to the south by Redfield.
Who would want to live in Easton when they could live in Whitehall! Same people, same classes, same hopes and expectations of course - but above all we were not in Easton!
Easton, Eastville, Greenbank, Whitehall etc are united by a common Postal (Zip) Code - BS5.
BS5 has a certain cachet these days, lauded by many and despised by others, because of its multi-cultural delights.
One BS5-er commissioned a mural on the gable of his BS5 home, a mural designed to affirm and celebrate the blessings of multi-cultural life.
Oh boy, I know that house. It is #45 Devon Rd, right next door to # 47 where I grew up. I love it.
But the local rag "The Bristol Post" said that it was in Easton.
"Not so" says my Mum from her grave "it's in Whitehall".
Tribalism lives! Whitehall, Greenbank, Eastville and Easton residents are peas in a pod. But local tribalism reigns.
God bless my Mum. She was in general a heroic and tolerant woman.
But we all have our limits.
Let it be known: "I was raised in Whitehall, not in Easton". 😔
The question threw me off guard. Then I realised that I was not being asked about my skills, knowledge, accomplishments and experience. I was being asked about my soul.
'Twas a rare question. When being interviewed for a job, or when in retirement meeting a new person one is much more likely to be asked "what did you do?", or "where are you from?"
"What did you do?" That's easy for me. My confession that I was a parish Priest in the Episcopal Church speaks highly of my respectability. (If only they knew).
"Where do you live?" That's a subtle and class based question in Sarasota.
Should I reply with Bird Key, or St. Armands, or Lido Shores, or Siesta Key, or even "west of the trail" ( homes west of the Tamiami Trail and close to Sarasota Bay) my interlocutor is immediate reassured as to my class and prosperity. He/she knows that I am of the right sort.
But when I say "I live in Glen Oaks Ridge" the response is a blank stare. My questioner is baffled. She/he has never heard of Glen Oaks Ridge. That lack of knowledge handicaps his/her assessment of my worth.
---------------------------------------------------------
It's all about tribalism.
I understand this phenomenon well from my up-bringing in east Bristol, UK.
East of the city centre was an area called St. Paul's, replete with elegant Georgian and Victorian houses, the homes of 19th Century mercantile class (but a bit run down in my time).
St. Paul's morphed into Easton, an area with "two up-two down" late Victorian era row houses. There the factory workers and shop workers lived in homes with no hot running water, and no indoor plumbing, but with a "dog in the manger" working class sensibility. Easton was, in the minds of the respectable classes, a bit sub-par.
Easton had and has no fixed boundaries, but generally speaking it is an area to the north and south of Stapleton Rd., emerging from St. Paul's in the west and morphing into Eastville and Greenbank in the east.
 |
| The Stapleton Rd of my youth. |
 |
| Modern Stapleton Rd, multi-cultural and lively for some, disdained by others. |
 |
| Kensington Baptist in Church in Easton. My sister Maureen and her husband attend this Church. "Ken" as it is familiarly known chose not to flee to the burbs, but to bloom where it was planted, These days it has members from more than twenty different Countries. WAY TO GO!! |
My Mum grew up in Easton.
My Dad grew up in Eastville (back then a slightly more respectable area than Easton) (we are talking about the 1930's).
Mum and Dad bought a house in east Bristol, south of the old London, Midland and Scottish Railway Line. There we were raised. Three up and three down, but with no hot running water, and with an outdoor "lav". Just like Easton
There I was raised. But my parents were clear. We did not live in Easton. We lived in Whitehall, boundaried to the west by Easton, to the north by Greenbank, and to the south by Redfield.
Who would want to live in Easton when they could live in Whitehall! Same people, same classes, same hopes and expectations of course - but above all we were not in Easton!
Easton, Eastville, Greenbank, Whitehall etc are united by a common Postal (Zip) Code - BS5.
BS5 has a certain cachet these days, lauded by many and despised by others, because of its multi-cultural delights.
One BS5-er commissioned a mural on the gable of his BS5 home, a mural designed to affirm and celebrate the blessings of multi-cultural life.
Oh boy, I know that house. It is #45 Devon Rd, right next door to # 47 where I grew up. I love it.
But the local rag "The Bristol Post" said that it was in Easton.
"Not so" says my Mum from her grave "it's in Whitehall".
Tribalism lives! Whitehall, Greenbank, Eastville and Easton residents are peas in a pod. But local tribalism reigns.
God bless my Mum. She was in general a heroic and tolerant woman.
But we all have our limits.
Let it be known: "I was raised in Whitehall, not in Easton". 😔
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