"Whoever one is, & wherever one is, one is always in the wrong if one is rude." ~Maurice Baring
Manners. It’s a disappearing art form. Yet, it’s a much needed art form! I swear, when I was a little girl, the one thing my parents drilled into our heads [my brother, my sister and myself] was to always be polite, courteous, thoughtful and considerate. Now, they knew that we were human and would, on occasion, fall short of managing all those tall orders. However, one thing they were certain of and knew we would not fail at was with regard to our manners. They were in the driver’s seat where that was concerned. They demanded good manners from us, and they got them.
Sometimes, demands can be unreasonable or bad things. Good manners does not fall into that category. I truly appreciate that these basic courtesies were instilled in me. It’s important.
Let me tell you though, that good manners didn’t come easy for either of us! It’s like potty training! Some days, you do really well and make strides forward, where you’re confident the lesson has taken. Other days, not so much. My parents were nothing if not diligent where good manners were concerned. If we weren’t on top of that basic requirement in social skills, and they heard about it, well, let’s just say we were given a stern talking to! [Mr. Soulis wasn’t the only one with an attitude adjuster!] Like a dog with a bone or like white on rice – those are two terms that come to mind, when I think about my parents teaching manners. If they were around us, and we behaved like hooligans in public, one of three things happened: we got the dirty look from one or both of them - usually both. Aside from that, these were the options depending on how bad the infraction: my father would take us outside. Trust me, you did NOT want my father to take you outside, unless going outside was part of the original game plan. Plan B was that my mother would simply reach her hand across however many children it took for her to reach the one requiring her silent attention and, without a change in her facial demeanor what so ever, would dig her fingernails down into the flesh of our forearm. It left an interesting, half-moon pattern in our skin for the rest of the evening. She went deep lest we forget why she went there in the first place! It was on rare occasions that we experienced the second wave of instruction because, honestly, "the look" was normally enough to make us settle down. We didn’t want our mother’s nail-imprint design on our forearm any more than we wanted to see the outdoors with our father, in instances where our manners, or lack thereof, needed their parental re-direction.
Now, you may be wondering what the big deal was about "the look"? I can’t really describe it other than to say it was similar to one of those road signs that read: Warning! Rough patch up ahead. Proceed with caution! It was one of the few times, when the message that was in either of my parents’ eyes could NOT be mistaken. More clearly, the message was this: "You had BETTER straighten up!" Nothing ticked them off more than our wanting to challenge that statement with an "or what?" attitude - especially in public!
They weren’t afraid to show you "or what" either! It just wasn’t something they liked to do when all eyes were on them because discipline is never a pleasant thing for someone to dole out. Okay, I know there are some people who like to give and others who like to receive discipline. Let’s leave that as a discussion for another day. Or, let’s not and say we did. I like that proposition better. Back to my point: there is NOTHING worse for a southern parent or at least MY southern parents, then a smattering of heads turning and wondering as they glance around, who in the world does that unruly child belong to? When that happened, one of the two previously mentioned things occurred: we felt a stinging sensation in our hind parts against the backdrop of the evening sky, OR we had distinctive, little half-moon patterns on our arms for the remainder of the evening. Either way, we, the children were on the receiving end of unpleasantness. [My mother might debate that point!]
Have you ever heard the old adage: "Children should be seen and not heard?" I don’t typically prescribe to that philosophy. I like children. I don’t mind them expressing themselves in MOST situations. However, I do make two exceptions to my rule: restaurants and movie theaters. Kids don’t get to have a free-for-all experience unless you’re in a McDonald’s or a Pixar movie. Even then, some manners are in order!
With regard to the remainder of situations, PLEASE people, have more consideration for the rest of humanity who is spending OUR hard earned dollars to go out and have an enjoyable dinner or catch a movie. We’d like to do it without the squealing, screeching, wailing sounds of your children interrupting our desire for a nice afternoon out of the house! We aren’t unreasonable people. We know YOU need moments out of your house too, but be considerate! First of all, I won’t even comment on people bringing a small child into an R rated movie, but if you can’t find a babysitter and must bring them along, could you be more mindful of the other people who paid $8.00 to be there too? If your child begins a constant crying because the sound is too loud or whatever has traumatized them....be considerate and step outside. It’s NOT considerate for you to try and correct the situation inside the movie theater. It’s not being insensitive on our parts because we don’t want to listen to your crying baby or you trying to quiet them where you sit, making us miss the plot of the story because you don’t have common sense to excuse yourself with said screaming baby. Calm them down outside the realm of other paying individuals! It’s NOT too much to ask!
Likewise, and this one is more annoying than the above-mentioned infraction: if you’re sitting in a restaurant and your child is wailing, the way one would wail because CBS cancelled Joan of Arcadia, NBC recently announced that Mariska Hargitay will be leaving Law and Order: SVU mid-season or ABC screwed up most of its entire daytime lineup, how do you NOT hear that? How do you sit ignorant of the fact that all tables north, south, east and west of you are glaring, because your child is sending that Godawful, shock-wave sort of piercing screech – you know the one like fingernails clawing down a chalkboard? Why should the rest of us suffer because you waited until 3 o’clock to feed your two-year old lunch? And, what’s the matter with you anyway that you waited until 3 o’clock to feed your two year old lunch? In case the answer hasn’t come to you, here it is: take your precious darling outside until whatever tantrum he/she is experiencing passes! Is that thought process really that complicated to reach? For some, it appears so!
I told Tom, 10 minutes into the wailing yesterday that my parents wouldn’t have stood for such behavior! They’d have had our butt outside so fast it would have made heads spin, namely ours! And, if we wouldn’t straighten up, they’d have taken us home. They’d done it to us before. Case in point, my father got one block from the Dairy Queen after church one Sunday night but my brother just couldn’t stop picking on me and my sister. [Yes, it was usually Jeff’s fault! You know it’s true, Jeff...] My father, after telling us twice to "pipe down back there or you’re going to be sorry", meant what he said and followed it up with the whipping of the car around and taking us home – no chocolate milkshake, no double dipped cone, no ice-cream sundae. No nothing. He was unmoved by our crying, "we’ll be good, Daddy! We’ll be good!" Oh, he had NO doubt that we’d be good. Still, it was no cigar. Bad behavior wasn’t about to be rewarded. And when we realized he meant business and was taking us home, we cried and pled louder - trying to pressure him into taking us back, if he wanted us to shut up. We knew how to play that game, or so we thought. He didn’t buy into that tactic either. We got his veiled but very real threat, "If you don’t shut-it-up, I’m going to give you something to cry about!" he shot back, sternly and firmly. I remember sucking those water-works up and bone dry, giving an apologetic glance at my siblings because I was out! I didn’t want anything more to cry about other than the realization that my chocolate shake had just been ripped from my anticipating hands. That was trauma enough for one night, because it also meant we didn’t get any snack when we got home either. We’d blown [or let me clarify, my brother with his constant picking at us...it’s my blog, I get to place the blame ;-)] had blown our snack opportunity for the evening. I seem to remember rounds of "nice going" each of us spat at the other to which my father, having had enough of our shenanigans for the evening, once again, said, "Knock it off back there!" If only we’d have listened the first time he’d said it, I’d have been enjoying my chocolate shake as we drove home instead of pouting at my parents and glaring at my brother!
That’s one thing I give my parents, boy, if we didn’t conduct ourselves like little gentlemen and ladies out in public, we didn’t go out in public. What they understood is that it was a reflection on them if they couldn’t keep their 6, 8, and 12 year old kids under control. Gosh, I wish more people got that!
One thing I got was that I wouldn’t have made it to my 7th birthday if I’d ever have slapped my parents arm when they told me to "settle down" or screamed "NO!" at the top of my lungs for anything, or thrown my sippy cup at them. They would have set me straight REAL quick as to why you do NOT throw your sippy cup at your mother’s forehead or smack your father’s hand in protest. Had that or any other disrespectful conduct happened, I remember brows coming together as they looked at us and said in a voice of utter disbelief, "WHO do you think you are?!" Um....I’m the child and you’re the parent. Bingo!
There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of parenting going on these days with regard to some people. The kids are calling the shots – at least that’s how it seemed yesterday from the view due nouth of the table in question. The most amazing thing was when the mother got up to go to the bathroom, and the little girl screamed as if someone had stuck her hand into a pot of boiling water, and neither one of the two other women sitting at the table even looked up or checked on her. How does that happen? How on God’s green earth do you ignore something like that, in public, no less? They weren’t deaf because they spoke to each other. It’s mind boggling!
The only reason we didn’t leave was because I’d not had anything to eat all day, and I was hungry. I figured by the time we got in the car and made it to a drive through, it would be 15 or 20 minutes. Of course, it also became a test of wills at that point.
So, five minutes later when our food arrives, we felt victorious - almost at the finish line. The child had been quietly sucking on her pacifier for three solid minutes. Also, food had been delivered to their table as well. I thought, for a moment, we could all eat in peace. At least, that’s how it appeared. I fixed my burger the way I wanted it - got the mustard smeared across the onion roll, added the pickles that were on the side, then sliced it down the middle and wrapped a napkin around it. My mouth was watering. Boy, it looked good! Thank you God, I thought, finally for some peace and quiet and this delicious looking burger. Just as I got it to my mouth, the guy at the next table decides to blow his nose. HE finished his meal! I’m not talking about a gentle blow either. I’m talking about a full honker, blowing your brains out kind of blow! Let me tell you what I find more offensive at the dinner table than a petulant child screaming its head off: an adult who rudely takes it upon themselves to ruin anyone else’s dining experience with the disgusting display of nose-blowing! For crying out loud [and I almost did], excuse yourself from the table already! Nobody wants to hear that as they’re getting ready to eat!
I glared over in his direction with a seriously, Guy! look of disdain and dismay on my face. My husband and I had just listened to 40 minutes of Damianna screaming her little head off with NO adult intervention to make her cease and desist, we were starving, on our last nerves and THIS is how you follow up the less-than-desirable acts I and II of Nightmare in the Restaurant? He had been present for the first unsavory part of the dining experience! How dare he add insult to injury!
I closed my eyes and placed the half of my none-eaten burger down. My husband placed his fork-ful of eggs back onto his plate and took a sip of his coffee, as we tried to re-group.
I no longer cared how MY decorum appeared. I said loudly enough so that tables due north and west of us, I hoped, got an earful. "Doesn’t ANYONE have manners anymore?!"
My husband shook his head. "Doesn’t seem so!"
"Next time we go out, remind me to bring ear plugs!"
"That’s not a bad idea," he replied, as serious in tone as I was.
I don’t understand the rudeness of people? I really don’t! Going out in these troubled economic times is a luxury for most people. It would be nice if people acted in a considerate manner when out of their house. Your hard-earned dollars aren’t more important that mine. They don’t give you the right to behave badly! It truly makes me wonder where all the manners have gone? We desperately need them! Civility is another one that seems to have gone out the window. [Just look at Washington, D.C., if you don’t believe me.]
After our "left-a-LOT-to-be-desired" dining nightmare, I rested my head back against the seat of the car and closed my eyes. An old Peter, Paul and Mary song came to mind. I couldn’t help myself as I hummed it in my mind. One word changed for me. Manners was substituted for flowers.
My mind wondered the question the tune posed as it filled my head:
Where have all the manners gone, long time passing,
Where have all the manners gone, long time ago,
Where have all the manners gone....
Seems they left most everyone,
When will they ever return....
When will they EVER re-e-turn.
I apologize to Pete Seeger for "going there".....my mind couldn’t help itself. In the weariness of a world seemingly gone mad with little tolerance and civility towards one another and a great deal of profundity with regard to ill-manners, I just don’t get it anymore! I don’t understand blatant rudeness, or lack of good manners. It doesn’t compute in my brain that people can be so self-centered that they can’t hear a sobbing/screaming/upset child who needs tending to or that a person who has concluded his meal doesn’t have the right to ruin the meal of those who’ve not yet begun! Maybe I’m old school....but, at least, back when I was in school, we didn’t have to look too hard for our manners...
Written by Jhill Perran
July 31, 2011
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