Neat Freaking

MY SISTER tells me that when I was but a wee lad, pre school, I would stand over a the kitchen trash can while eating a cookie, to keep the crumbs off the floor by letting them fall directly into the trash. This was because of my mother. My father, according to sis, unsable to bear the sight of what he thought was child abuse against a toddler, left the room. I really don't now what if any role plates might have played in all this: whereas I can assure you my family could afford plates and had a surpus of them, I have no idea why I wasn't simply directed to one, instead of the trash can. My best theory is that my trash can cookie adventure happened whenever I asked for a cookie at a time when a meal wasn't being eaten, and mom, being mom, saw no sense in getting a perfectly good plate "dirty". Plus, she knew me well enough to know that one little cookie wasn't about to spoil my appetite, nor even put a dent in it, so she said; "knock yourself out, but do it over there". I'm reasonably sure the story is true, becaue I distinctly recall eating cookies, many times, in precisely that fashion, and becauese I still eat them that way, to this very day, as if by some mysterious, unknown compulsion, and, presumably, will for the rest of my life, barring some unpredictable psychotic transformation within me. Whether my mother actually forced this on me, or whether I simply noticed how assiduous mom was in keeping a clean house, and I decided to conform and please her, I will never know. Either narrative is distinctly possible, and maybe, just maybe, my father's angst and moral indignation were in vain. Either way, she was the "driving force", as we like to say. Upon reflectin, it occurs to me that I have spent much of my lfe saying and doing things to please other people, and that now, as a senior citizen, I am far less inclined to do that. But I often display such extremely courteous behaviors. I refer to everyone as "Ma'am" and "Sir", for example, even first graders. Why not? Why not set a good example? Also, unlike many folks my age, I never call eighteen year olds "kids". They don't like that, and besides, if you're old enough to vote and fight and die four your country, you're a grown up, not a kid. Hell, my dad, who so hated strictly raised children that he walked out on the sight of his own son being strictly rasied, called everybody younger then he "kid". When he was sixty seven, the age I am now, he called forty year olds "kids". To me, that's disrespectful, and although arguably there isn't a human being on this splanet worthy of a whole lot of respect, respect should not have to be earned, it should be given automatically as a courtesy. Only respected people should be able to destory the inherent respect of others. Goethe made a good point: "Tolerance should be merely a passing sentiment, leading to ultimate acceptance. Continued tolerance is an insult." Babe Ruth, never known for his elegant articulation, had his own system, which worked for him. If you were older than he, he called you "Doc". If you were about the same age as he, he called you "Mac". And if you were younger than he, he called you - you guessed it - "kid". Doc, Mac, Kid... People generally loved the Babe. And like they say, its the thought that counts.