You Must Remember This

With as much talk as you hear about etiquette, you'd think we'd be a lot better-behaved society. Not only has Peggy Post taken over from mom Emily as the Manners Maven -- and what is it about passing down these crowns, anyway? What qualifies "Dear Abby's" daughter to be an advice columnist? Does Martha Stewart have kids? Rachel Ray better get at it!

Sorry. Tune in in about 30 years when my (3)7-year old takes over for me. Anyway, in addition to Peggy Post getting quoted in every news story about impolite behavior, we have a column in our paper called "Ex-Etiquette", written by two women -- one of whom is married to the other's ex-husband. I guess instead of "in-laws", they're "ex-laws". Or maybe "out-laws".

Update: Martha Stewart has a daughter, described as a "radio personality" -- for Martha Stewart Living Radio on Sirius. Be afraid... be very afraid.

With two youngsters around, we are of course pretty obsessed with manners ourselves. It's a little unfortunate, actually, since my 4-year-old has decided it's amusing and much less taxing to pronounce her L's as W's. I say "decided"; she's perfectwy... I mean perfectly ... capable of enunciation. Goodness knows she gets all kinds of practice. In any case, I spend a lot of time reminding her to say please, and then reminding her again that "please" has an "L" in it.

It's all part of teaching your kids to make you look good. No, what I meant to say is "teaching your kids to grow up to be people you'd want in your home if you weren't forced to let them live there." All right, what I'm trying to get at here is that if you want your kids to stand out from the crowd -- in the good way, not the "spiked purple hair & nose ring" way -- teach them some manners.

Clearly manners are like the weather. From the cashier who won't even look up to the guy who cuts you off in traffic to everybody and his brother talking on their cell phones through dinner, conversations with others, and funerals, etiquette is no doubt easier to spell than it is to observe in the wild.

As you might guess, like any truly good and heartfelt rant, this one is based in experience. A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of visiting the church where I was born (not literally, of course... but only because it was a Wednesday). As a preacher's kid, I spent a lot of time there in my first 3 years of life. Later, when I was in grad school and living nearby, it pleased me to the depths of my tradition-obsessed soul to attend there for 2 more years and be part of the same choir in which my parents had sung.

So I was equally tickled to be there again, and moreso because my wife had been invited to be guest preacher for the day. Over the course of the day I met, once more, some people who had been part of the church 20+ years ago during my last stint, and even some who were there my first time around. And when I spoke with them, what do you suppose is the first thing almost all of them said?

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Can we agree that the purpose of conversation is to foster goodwill and a sense of community between two people? Why, then, would you begin a conversation with the verbal equivalent of the duelist's glove slap?

Now this is by no means an isolated occurrence. Naturally, it's a staple of high school reunions; my 25th featured several instances of this gambit (ironically, most of the time by people who wouldn't have been caught dead speaking to me the first time around).

Last week my wife was also accosted in just such a manner at a funeral home by someone who followed up by saying, "I came to church on Christmas... I wore a purple dress." This was, as you can imagine, the very key that unlocked a virtual flood of memories. She always takes pains to memorize everyone who attends once, cross-referenced by occasion and color.

Look, rest assured that once you have jogged my memory a little, I will regale you with the many fascinating things I recall about you from That Special Time In Our Lives.... Till then, please remember that in my adult life, I've lived in 5 towns in 3 states, attended 7 churches, and had (gulp) 10 different jobs. So a little context, at least, wouldn't hurt -- have some pity on a guy.