GOOD MANNERS NO LONGER SEEM DE RIGUEUR
Courtesy is always appreciated, even in these modern, internet-driven times
Cutlery comes bundled in paper napkins.
Texting interrupts most everything.
Introductions are makeshift, clumsy.
Along with paper maps and pay phones, you can add manners to the list of things you rarely see anymore. The former became obsolete. The latter rusted out from lack of use as technology shepherded us into our respective silos.
A chance encounter with oldworld gentility and you immediately recognize what we've lost. People once spoke about something called breeding, and it had nothing to do with racehorses. Parents used to hammer manners into the skulls of their little beasts in the rightly held conviction that the world would be less hostile if they knew how to navigate the eventual tiger pits. Be a finger-licking cannibal at home, if you must, but have a clue about table manners when dining out.
A million bucks says that your mom taught you how to set a table. That you had to wait to begin eating until everyone was seated. That you had to ask to be excused from the table. I'll bet you knew how to properly introduce your friends to your grandparents. I'll bet lots of you had to rise when an elder entered the room. Salad forks? Absolutely! You're in good company. Sting, in his hit song, An Englishman in New York, quotes “Manners maketh man,” pronouncing the well-mannered man as the “hero of the day.” Colin Firth's character in the movie The Kingsman frames the credo rather more pointedly. With no small measure of chivalry, he delivers an unexpected lesson to a group of hooligans in a bar. While quietly sliding the bolts on the door, he intones each word: Manners. Maketh. Man. He then asks if they know what he means. They don't, of course. And then, using only his umbrella, the ill-mannered thugs get schooled. The scene is inventively violent, but without unnecessary gore ... as befits a gentleman.
Manners are regional. When I lived in Florida, the population was fluid and diverse. Despite triple-gated communities, people were very casual about things, especially apparel. All you needed was something to wear to the pool and something to wear to the drive-thru. New England was different, completely and utterly. Someone once explained the difference to me this way: Florida was the land of second chances, but in New England, your entire family gets one chance every three generations. Don't blow it.
Once, while talking to an off-duty cop in Bermuda, I commented on the superlative manners of the island's children.
He laughingly explained two things to me: Firstly, “Bermuda is only 22 miles long.” Secondly: “This is Bermuda! Everybody knows your momma.” Word of misdeeds arrived home before you did.
In a hotel gift shop in Virginia, I was surprised to see a shelf of books on teaching etiquette to children. I hadn't encountered this anywhere else. But then, it's too late for me: I've already unleashed my hounds into the general public. The common thread among the books was to lead by example.
Ahem. Indeed. In our home, my dad cracked the whip on deportment. In high school, I could identify wine by the shape of the bottle and knew which stemware was considered appropriate. Today, however — from milk to Merlot — I use stemless glasses for everything … when I'm not drinking out of the bottle.
I've lapsed, but I'm trying to do better. My kids tell me that refined manners are archaic. I reply that courtesy is always appreciated. Good manners indicate that your default setting is respect, not entitlement. If, in the age of the internet, you've received a handwritten thank you note, you know this to be true. One thing I think we can all agree upon, however, is that eating pizza with a knife and fork is just wrong, wrong, wrong. Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. Her garden is her major distraction during COVID-19. She writes on The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun.
THIS WEEK'S QUESTION FOR READERS:
Q Are manners a thing of the past? Where do you sit on the
manners spectrum today?
Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at thebooklessclub@gmail.com. We will print some next week in this space.
RESPONSES TO LAST WEEK'S QUESTION FOR READERS:
Q Gifts — given or received — which ones stick out in your mind and why?
A When I was a kid, my father was an army officer in China fighting the invasion by Japan. Being preoccupied at the front line, he seldom came home to see us. Once, while he was visiting us, he carved a toy pistol out of a bamboo tube with a pocket knife. I was horrified when he cut his hand and was bleeding. Being a refugee, constantly running from the advancing enemy, I hardly possessed any toys, but I treasured this toy pistol made by my father.
— Roxy Paul Sun
A One Mother's Day, my four sons and husband presented me with a stainless-steel carving set. It was more than I could have ever wished for — not! They were so proud as they assured me there was no better carving set to be had. I told them that it was so thoughtful of them to buy me something of such good quality. The whole time, I am thinking how I can use the knife to slit my husband's throat as I know it was his idea. My sons went along with his story that this was exactly what mummy wanted for Mother's Day. All these years later, I still look at that carving set and laugh out loud. Jewelry be damned.
— Judy Mcdonald
A The gift that will forever be in my heart was given to me by my grandfather when I was sick with tonsillitis. I was seven years old and he gave me Evening in Paris stick perfume. I felt like a grown-up. He passed away at the too-young age of 57 a few months later. I kept that stick perfume for many, many years, long after anyone could ever consider the scent pleasant. But almost six decades later, I can't think of a gift that meant more to me.
— Jan Robson
A My elderly mother presented me with a ribbon-less oddsized bundle with a smile and a glow. The wrapping paper was obviously recycled, as it was wrinkled and askew with tape burns. I could see faded corners and chaffed creases in its crumpled form. She used her scant resources to assemble this offering expressly for me. The true value of a gift is not measured in monetary worth, but in its thoughtfulness and giving. Today, I do not recall the actual item, but I will always cherish her warm embrace in the loving wrap of her arms.
— Sam Louie
A I was perhaps two years into a new relationship, our second Christmas together, when I received the gift that most “sticks out in my mind” — a fax machine! What young gal would not be thrilled with that gift? The fax machine is long gone, but I have been with the gift giver for over 26 years.