Candy From Strangers

I was at the Schnuck's on Union this morning getting some things for work when I came up to a bottleneck in one of the too-narrow aisles in that store. There was an old man in the way - one of the typical characters of Midtown with his wild gray hair, disheveled clothes and walking stick protruding from his basket and taking up even more space in the passing lane. With my typical aplomb I rolled my eyes and pushed by him anyway, but being sure to say excuse me as I did and to assure him that he wasn't in the way. This man followed me, calling to me for what, I assumed, was a handout (this is Midtown, remember). I finally admitted to hearing him and stopped. He asked if my mother was still alive, which seemed an odd question. I said she was and he asked me to tell her that she did a good job raising me, that I was very polite and you don't see that much anymore. He explained that he was just a simple old man, a Southern gentleman and a retired psychologist. I thanked him and agreed with him that people weren't very polite these days. Then I felt guilty for rolling my eyes and for trying to outrun a crazy old man. The guilt is probably something else gained from childhood.

We try to raise The Trio to be polite people, good citizens and helpful to humanity. Or at least to not fart in public, at least not at a restaurant, at least not on an acoustically balanced wood booth. I figure we'll concern ourselves later with Peace Corps applications and Nobel Prize nominations. For now, I'd just like to hear them answer with a yes, sir or yes, ma'am - not to me, because that was never an issue in our house growing up - but to strangers, elders who they haven't been told to call by their first names yet.

It's nice to see something you were taught as a very young person be validated as an adult. To be polite was taught to me in ways I didn't even realize at the time. It's not taught as a subject in school, but with a look, a gentle reminder and then another look, more stern this time with the upper lip curled slightly under. Thank you. Please. May I. If the parenting is effective, it becomes ingrained in us as much as eating right, playing nice, washing our hands and not talking to crazy-haired Southern gentleman ex-psychologists we don't know.