They taught their children

to play tennis and golf

To carry cash to pay,

But discreetly

And always insist at least twice before conceding the cheque to their companions.

They taught them to find the best sales at Sacks and Nordstrom and Brooks and Nieman's, when the occasion called.

And they taught them that smart casual always means a collar and never cargos.

They taught them to order with confidence and tip well, but not too much--and importantly, to know when to stop.

They brought them to the right places, and got them the right shoes, and had them take the right lessons, and along with all of this explicit instruction came the implicit learning of a certain kind of living, a certain manner of speaking, and the same sorts of references and world view shared by the others who were at ballet and the equestrian club and the tennis courts.

They dressed them in seersucker in summer and cashmere in winter and Burberry accents above and beyond and in between.

And in so doing, they hoped to somehow insulate their progeny from future harms.

Surely, if they talk, and walk, and wear, and buy the part well enough, when the oustings begin, it will not begin with them.

Theirs will surely have access to the in-crowds. The yachts and VIP lounge passes will protect them from the prosaic and general unpleasantness that other people have to deal with.

No, our children will not be found wanting. They will know and be known by their kind. And when it matters, they will know where they belong.

And so, we will teach our children tennis, and golf.

And we will pray to the Gods of commerce it is enough to protect them from the unknowable wrath and uncaring whims of powerful assailants.