This is about manners, not politics …

We’ve been losing our civility for years. Kids, and I mean seven and eight year olds, talk back to their rude behaviourparents. They’re rude to teachers. You don’t hear “please” or “thank you” coming out of anyone’s mouth very often, regardless of age. We’re dismissive of other people and other points of view. We say, and do, mean things.

We shout. Ignore. Sneer. Swear. Jab. Interrupt. Huff off.

We stopped ‘dressing for the occasion’ a long time ago. When I was a child and even in my teens and 20’s no one would ever have thought of going to a concert hall, opera house or even dinner in a ‘nice’ restaurant in Continue reading

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Is it me?

What’s going on?  Am I just getting cranky and intolerant in my old age?  Because I don’t know about you, but it sure feels like I’m living in a world where manners and civility are fast becomingcranky endangered species.

A world where callous, boorish, insensitive, classless, vile behaviour is, sadly, becoming the norm; and is generally accepted, excused, ignored, overlooked and, sometimes, even rewarded.

Of what do I speak?

If, in the end, the NBA does find a way to make Donald Sterling sell the Clippers he will make pots and pots and pots of money.  He’ll laugh all the way to the bank.  And he’ll still be a racist pig.  And a womanizer.  And a slum landlord.  He’s 80 years old and he’s got prostate  cancer.  He’s not about to change any time soon.  And why would he?  He’s gotten away with it so far.

If, in the end, by some miracle Toronto’s Mayor, Rob Ford, comes out of rehab and never smokes crack or drinks  Continue reading

Day 227. We’re Oblivious

I went for a pedicure yesterday. A woman walked in, gave her name, and said she had an appointment for a mani/pedi (manicure and pedicure). Her esthetician disdainfulshowed her where to hang up her coat, and asked her to pick her preferred shade of nail polish. Which she did.

She was then shown where to sit. They had a long row of special pedicure chairs along one wall. She refused. Hands on hips, she said she’d booked two appointments, one for a friend; and she wouldn’t start until her friend arrived. The gal who was doing the pedicure very politely explained she had another client coming in, and she wouldn’t have time.

At this point I should tell you the friend was late.

The woman still refused to get started. And to make matters worse she was looking at the poor girl like she was an alien. Or a speck of lint on her skirt. It wasn’t pretty.

To make a long story short this back-and-forth continued for about five more minutes. Eventually the woman

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