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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It’s out of control …

Actually, we’re out of control.   And if you’re paying attention, as in living life with your eyes wide open, you’ve noticed it too — angryand if you’re not guilty yourself, I’m guessing you’re as fed up as I am.

A few weeks ago I had a meeting.  It was the first time we’d laid eyes on each other.  They called me.  I was with them for an hour.  One of them texted the entire time I was there.  His device never left his hands.  He may have spoken once.  Maybe.  He made eye contact with me twice — when I arrived and again when I left.  That was it.

It took all the discipline I could muster to stop myself from reaching across the table, grabbing the offending item, tossing it on to the floor and jumping all over it.  Just before I sailed out of Continue reading

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