Greenwich Junior League Cotillion, 2013
I had dinner with Pal Nancy and the girls last night, and Nancy reminded me of the time in 1983 when, with much misgiving, she accepted an invitation to join the JLG (it was invitation only, back then). After two years of JLG nonsense she’d had enough, and the birth of our second child gave her the perfect excuse to resign.
The perfect excuse, perhaps, but not to the Junior League, which demanded she pay a $500 quitter’s penalty before they’d accept it. Her pleas that we were a single-income family with two infants to care for fell on deaf ears: pay the penalty, she was warned, or she would be ruined in Greenwich society and her name put about as a deadbeat.
I pointed out to Nancy that she was eligible to join the Mayflower Society – not that she ever would – and members of my own family were Sons of the Revolution, so the family name could easily survive the scorn of a group of mean spirited nouveau arrivistes with long legs, genetically developed by generations of their ancestors walking, rather than riding around Europe. But Nancy was new to town, and nervous about the threats thrown at her by these wretched people, so we caved, and paid the money.
That, of course, was not the Nancy of today, and the story was almost forgotten, but being called a bully by certain JLG members last week for picking on their dreadful social club brought it back; if I’m a “cyber-bully”, according to these parasites, what do they consider behavior that threatens a young women with slanders against her name and her exclusion from “proper society”?
A pox on their enchanted forest.
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