Sunday 27 May 2012

MANNERS MAKETH MAN:



Am I trapped in a mental time warp? I long for those hazy days when gentlemen were gentle men, holding doors open, doffing their hats, pulling out my chair, standing when I came into a room. Those misty memories of ladies wearing camisoles & cautious smiles, where a glimpse of a dainty, silver- buckled shoe, a turn of a delicate ankle was sufficient. Those expected actions of the youth standing on a bus, offering his seat to a lady, his smile to a baby, his help to an old person, & always with respect in his eyes instead of today’s smirk. Where, oh where are those days when the adage of my grandpa, "manners maketh man, my dear" meant something important to adhere to?. Women have come a long way, we have the vote, we have equal rights (only in some places), & we are stronger today than ever before, & for these things I am eternally grateful, & am eternally feminist, but I feel we have lost our greatest weapon, our biggest strength, our femininity, & without this we are lost. Let us recuperate this weapon of mass creation once more. We still have the glass ceiling to get through in many instances, & we are not any happier, more stressed than ever before, & we spend more time away from our greatest treasure, our children, how sad, & yet necessary today. Those magical days when children ran, played, got dirty & were innocent for longer, without having to look over their shoulder, because the bogey man in those days was only in the imagination, unlike today. Those days when we had no gadgets, only the wind on our faces to play with. Days when fathers told their sons stories of their boyhoods, long, long time ago, & sons listened rapt in attention. Those days when mothers cooked fresh food in bubbling pots, delicious aromas wafting around the home, instead of zapping unknown components called fast food. Days when families sat down & talked, laughed & loved. I used to be the sulky teenager, the rebel, the hippie of the 60s that my elders tutted at, & whispered about. Today I am a silver crone, & I yearn for lavender & old lace, tea dances & crinoline, croquet & crumpets by the fire. I care not what folk think, nor say. I rejoice in age & adhere to those wise words of my grandpa (here´s to you wise man, gentle man, gentleman) "manners maketh man my dear".

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