A LOSS OF CIVILITY
August 8 2013Yesterday was the last day of my 66th year on this amazing planet. I have no idea what that really means or even why I’m mentioning it, although I do remember feeling a little regret yesterday morning, not so much regret at time passing, but more of a silly sort of regret that I hadn’t noticed before the symmetry of 66 combined with my birthdate of 8/8, a momentary lapse into magical thinking that made we wonder if I had missed some numerological opportunity during the course of the past 12 months.Birthdays, numbers, time; simple arithmetic that we try to manipulate in order to make aging more acceptable; the trickery of certain numbers like the way that 67 seems so much closer to 70 than did 66. A relative of mine suffered a stroke on Sunday. At 71, one could say she’s closer to 70 than am I, which is about as much sense as numbers make. It was a relatively mild stroke, but it has shocked the whole family, myself included. How very arbitrary and fragile life is and when we look back over the span of our lives, who among us can say they didn’t waste some of that precious time.Although I have often stated that nothing is a waste, that everything happens for a reason and that it takes whatever it takes to get us where we’re going, I have to confess that I’m now more inclined to believe that’s a load of claptrap. Isn’t it possible to have both acceptance of what is and regret for some of what was?For a few days before my birthday I was a tad irritable and feeling somewhat overwhelmed, both of which I’d like to claim are due to ticking off another year on the calendar, but that isn’t the case, in fact I feel quite sanguine about this birthday, not to mention grateful. No, what’s really going on is that I’m writing a new novel and as a result I have 6 fictional characters in my head at all times. They are talking to each other and to me pretty constantly, fortunately in English, but it doesn’t leave a lot of room for communicating with “real” people, including my dear husband.This novel is the first fiction I’ve written in 10 years, in fact, I was convinced that I would never write fiction again, having fallen in love with the essay form and also because for the last decade I’ve been highly focused on being in reality. But about 6 weeks ago these characters, that had originally inhabited a short story I wrote some 15 years ago, suddenly clamored for attention. Evidently their lives, much like my own, extend beyond the short form.It’s too early in the process for me to want to share in any detail the outline of the story, but I can tell you that it has at its core the role that belief plays in our lives. One of the characters believes in civility; a rather old-fashioned word, much as is chivalry.Civility: an act of courtesy and respect; consideration of others. Even the definitions sounds antiquated. Remember when young people on trains and buses got off their asses and offered their seat to an older or pregnant person? When was the last time you saw that? I’ve stood from downtown to uptown in subway cars filled with seated young people and it just doesn’t occur to them. It’s not that they look at me, or a pregnant women and think, forget it, they’re not getting my seat. No, they’re so self-involved that the idea of civility is not a part of their vocabulary.We like to think we live in civilized countries, those of us who reside in America or Europe. Perhaps having lived on both continents I have mistakenly measured the civility I grew up with in Europe as being greater than that of America. However, I was disabused of this notion a few days ago when waiting in line at the checkout of the local supermarket.The place was packed as it was about to close for lunch, one of a few remaining civilized traditions that still continue here. Suddenly there was an awful clatter and perhaps 20 people turned to look at its source. A customer had knocked over a display of Tic-Tac’s, sending perhaps a hundred of their plastic containers all over the floor…and then he or she just kept on walking while everyone else turned away. I could see the accident waiting to happen; a customer turning the corner of the aisle, stepping on one of those slippery little boxes and going for a cropper. So I put my two shopping baskets on the floor, knelt down and started picking up the boxes. Eventually, when I was almost done, another customer helped. When I finished, I stood up and found that the woman who had been directly behind me in the line had take this opportunity to kick my baskets aside and take my place.I was already pissed off at the person who’d refused to take responsibility for having knocked over the display but now I was incensed. I started searching for the language to express to this local woman exactly what I thought of her, but then decided that action would speak louder than my Italian and picking up my baskets I squeezed in front of her, a rather uncivil act on my part, which further underlines the domino effect caused by an ever-increasing disregard for other people and their property.This example of the lack of civil behavior bothered me for hours. And saddened me. The erosion of civility is a loss beyond measure. It chips away at the soul and deprives us of the most basic of human abilities; the regard and respect of others, without which it is impossible to go all the way to love. And really, love is the only way to go.So, to all of you, our dear readers, I thank you for being in my life; for being such open receptors to my thoughts, concerns and observations. I count you as one of the many gifts on this my 67th Birthday and look forward to sharing more of each precious day with you.