3 minute read
Mind Your Manners
By Janice Lane Palko
You know it’s a crazy world when boxer Mike Tyson, who notoriously bit off a piece of Evander Holyfield’s ear, makes sense, but the former heavyweight champ is right. Social media can be a sewer. It has always been a double-edged sword. Along with the cute photos of people’s pets and lovable babies and funny memes, you also have foul, vile and sometimes downright evil posts to contend with.
After nine months of social distancing and living life online, I’m afraid that when this pandemic is over and we emerge into the real world, people may no longer know how to relate to one another with respect and kindness.
Recently, I saw a tweet from a young woman that said something to the effect, “Don’t you dare hold a door open for me. I’m not helpless or lame, and I don’t need your male patronization. If you do hold a door for me, then I’ll say &8#$ you!” My first reaction was, isn’t she a peach of a person, but then I got to thinking about manners.
Manners used to play an important part in society, and possibly in some cases (I’ve watched enough English Masterpiece Theatre episodes) too great a part. William Wilberforce, the British abolitionist, thought manners so vital that he once said, “God Almighty has set before me two great objects: the suppression of the slave trade and the reformation of manners.”
“Manners,” as writer Alexander McCall Smith noted, “are the basic building blocks of society.”
Our mannerly building blocks today seem as shaky as a Jenga game with huge gaps missing that threaten to lead to our societal collapse.
I thought about that young woman and felt sad for her. Don’t get me wrong. I grew up in the ‘70s; I had the 45 record of Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman Hear Me Roar and once bought a shirt on a visit to Washington, D.C. that said: A Woman’s Place is in the House . . . And the Senate. So, I know the scene.
But I must confess, that I miss manners, and I thought back to our trip last year to Rome. After we landed in the Eternal City, we got our luggage and found our shuttle driver, a tall, gray haired man, impeccably dressed in a navy suit who looked like Tony Bennett. In accented English, he told us the shuttle was just outside. I grabbed my suitcase handle, and before I could take a step, he touched my arm and said, “No madam. Allow me,” and he shlepped my bag out the door as I walked unburdened like a contessa to my ride.
The next day, we had a tour of the catacombs. When the tour bus arrived at them, the sun disappeared, and it began to rain. As I came out of the bus I said, “I should have brought my umbrella and went to stand under a tree. Our Sicilian tour guide, David, who looked like Stanley Tucci, came over, opened his umbrella and said, “My lady,” and he put the umbrella over my head.
“That’s OK.” I said. “It’s not raining that hard.”
“No,” he said. “I insist. We must take of the ladies.”
I shrugged. When in Rome. . . So, I took his arm and walked under the umbrella with David. As I strolled down the path, I looked over my shoulder and stuck my tongue out at my husband and two sons walking in the rain. N
ow, did I feel diminished or patronized by those mannerly acts? Even though, I knew they probably acted so chivalrous because they were anticipating a tip afterward, I nevertheless felt special, respected and valued. And that’s what manners do; they acknowledge another’s worth.
As we come back out into the world, mind your manners. It will rebuild our society, spread kindness, and develop respect for others. And if not? Who knows? You may run into Mike Tyson somewhere and get a punch in the face.
