say that about “Muskogee, Oklahoma,rnU.SA”rnClark Stooksbury writes from PortrnTownsend, Washington.rnMANNERSrnCourtesyrnby Joyce BennettrnShe is a middle-aged grocery clerk,rnand I have seen her working at FoodrnLion on Sundays and holidays and laterninto the evening during the week. Standingrnat her register, she warmly greets herrncustomers, but she could as easily be receivingrntourists at an antebellum mansionrnon the James River or teachingrnArthurian romance to gentlewomen atrnSweet Briar. Although I know that shernmust be hred from the endless hours onrnher feet, she is always gracious to me asrnshe scans my purchases, and I am inclinedrnto compare her to the youngrnwoman, an employee at another store,rnwho, a few weeks ago, wordlessly cartedrnout my groceries. After tossing the plasticrnbags into the trunk of my car withoutrnglancing at me, she skulked away, roundshoulderedrnand surly, leaving me standingrnthere smiling stupidly with the dollarrnbill which was to have been her tip still inrnmy hand. Unlike the sullen bagger, whornfeels justified in her rude behavior becausernof her minimum-wage employment,rnthe Food Lion’s grande dame,rnthough destined to work in a discountrnsupermarket, remains the very soul ofrngentility.rnThe ladylike cashier is a kindred spiritrnto Mr. Smith, a backyard mechanic whorncame to my rescue one snowy Saturdayrnwhen my car broke down in front of hisrnhouse. Wlien I knocked on his door askingrnfor help, he was tuning up a truck,rnbut he dropped everything to lend me arnhand in spite of the fact that he wasrnscheduled to work the night shift at hisrnregular job. He not only made two tripsrnto town to obtain the right part for myrncar, but he had to interrupt his labors tornmake a third frip to pick up his wife andrndaughter, who were returning from arnhigh school basketball game. While hernfixed the car and traveled the slipperyrnroads, I drank coffee and watched televisionrnwith his son. When Mr. Smith hadrnfinished the repairs, I asked him what Irnowed him. Poor as a church mouse atrnthe time, I felt relief and gratitude whenrnI heard him reply that I could pay for thernfive-dollar part if I wished and if I had thernmoney, but that otherwise I owed himrnnothing.rnMr. Smith and the grocery clerk, arnblack man and a white woman, belongrnto a small rainbow coalition of courteous,rncharitable people. Unlike those ofrnus who subscribe to the apotheosis of self,rnthey live in accordance with St. Paul’srngreatest virtue, and they know that courtesyrnis charity made manifest. Most people,rnexcited by charity when it is demonstratedrnon a large scale or in a dramaticrnway, seem unaffected by small acts ofrnkindness. And as time goes by, there arernfewer and fewer of us capable of the gardenrnvariety of charity—fewer and fewerrnmembers of Mr. Smith’s and therncashier’s minority group. The more officiallyrnand officiously compassionate wernbecome as a nation, the less caring wernbecome as individuals. As we congratulaternourselves for perpetuating the oldrndeal, we harden our hearts to those peoplernwe meet face to face on the streetrneveryday. Liberals, attempting to brainwashrnwasteland literalists, link disagreementrnwith their ideology as a sign of incivilityrnon the part of conservatives. Thernmedia have convinced the Americanrnpublic —as if Americans really caredrnabout or practiced civility—that we arerntired of the fussing and fighting going onrnup there on the Hill and wish that thosernill-bred Republican so-and-so’s wouldrnjust get down to nonpartisan business.rnWhile there are many causes for our badrnmanners, the primary cause is materialism,rnnot right-wing political views.rnThe courteous among us, celebratingrnhuman potentiality over materialism,rnrecognize that—as flawed as we are —rneach of us partakes of the divine perfectionrnof God. But even the nonbelieverrnwho is compelled to loathe others becausernhe adjudges himself the center ofrnthe universe must admit that somethingrnunfathomable transcends the playingoutrnof his fantastic fricks, and he has onlyrnto consider the power of such phenomenarnas hurricanes or F-5 twisters to understandrnthat the Immortal Hand that whipsrnup whirlwinds is in charge, not us. Unlikernthose who are humbled by this higherrnpower and who have the capacity tornextend courtesy unconditionally to othersrnbecause they honor the humanity inrnall they meet, the ill-mannered majorityrnare courteous only when a display ofrngood manners is convenient or expedient.rnGeneral Robert E. Lee, a product ofrna culture which proscribed courtlinessrnno matter the circumstances, seldomrnscolded his subordinates, and when herndid, he couched his criticism in thernmildest of terms. When Jeb Stuart andrnhis cavalry reached Gettysburg on July 2rnafter the battle had commenced, historiansrntell us that Lee was restrained whenrnhe remarked upon the late arrival of thernlegendary raider. He was not even harshrnwith the man some say cost him a victoryrnin Pennsylvania.rnFor charitable people, the expressionrnof courtesy is not contingent uponrnchanging fortunes, but today’s high-techrncretin turns courtesy on and off like arnfaucet and is only civil when civility isrnprofitable. Unable to grasp the distinctionrnbetween aggressive behavior andrnstanding up for oneself when necessary,rnthe average person confuses rudenessrnwith honesty, aggression with strength.rnSome of the sfrongest people I know arernquiet and polite; some of the weakest arernloud and uncouth. Women in particularrnmisunderstand what it means to bernsfrong. In an adolescent and misguidedrnattempt to emulate those they view as oppressors,rnthe women of the 90’s believernthat they have the right to be rude. Lookingrntough in their shoulder-padded suitsrnand sporting cropped hair, they swaggerrnand sneer as they look down their nosesrnand speak in clipped precise mean-voice.rnLiberated girls exult in being calledrnbitches and hope that, by acting like thernbullies they think men are, they willrnprove that they are no longer victims andrnare in control. Women of this sort errrnwhen they assume that I will be cowedrnby their cold, hard words because I amrnfrom a long line of refined, biscuitbaking,rnchildrearing women who werernmade out of something—women whornwere just as comfortable serving guestsrnapplesauce cake and coffee as they werernwringing chicken necks or drivingrnMassey Fergusons.rnWhile rudeness in speech might berncommonplace, the absence of courtesy isrnmost evident on our highways, wherernangry apes in overdrive compete forrnsupremacy. These road warriors, fravelingrnat lethal speeds, are oblivious to otherrnpeople and the natural world as theyrnJANUARY 1998/47rnrnrn