Lessons of Proper

A lesson hard for me to learn is to "accept" or simply "tolerate" that there's people sharing the air and the Earth with me, who have so little sense of self, style or what I consider to be the basic rules of civilized behavior. Granted, I break those rules as well, but at least I do my best to keep within them. Yeah, sometimes I'm sloppy wheh I eat and the tomato falls of the buschettas I intend to eat, or I forget of myself, and read an SMS sent to me when I'm talking to someone else, or I forget that only because the person I'm talking to is disregarding the basic norms of courtesy, I take to myself to go ahead and forget of mine, while I should really stick to them no matter what. However, I know, rationally I know (and mainly because that's what every media source pours on us) that I should be accepting the fatc that there is uncivilized people, who thinks that "manners" are just a fancy word to design a group of actions and a way of behaving you take what you want to get something from someone. Of course there are different kinds of manners, and not all books of etiquette agree on the same things, and hell, I'm not even talking of etiquette when I admit I'm the less adequate in that area! I can hardly find myself around more than one fork, and when I see so many cuttlery on the table, I remember my mother's angry mumbling: "Capitalist pigs' behavior!" and "Krőzus!". Not like Socialist societies are not well mannered, but they are simply not elitist. I am, so there I go building up a whole system from scratch, fitting in elements from my own education.

There's a lot you go picking up from friends and acquintances, and God has blessed me with friends who have taught me a lot, and a family that has also given me good basis (even if I don't hit the measure with my Grandfather....). Among the things I have learned are:

1. Your guests are your full responsability. You are responsible of their constant entertainment, and well being while you host for them. They shan't move a finger to help, nor with cleaning, nor with arranging, nor with money. You must treat them like kings and queens and supply them everything they could need before they ask for it. If the have to ask for something (save the bathroom) you are not being a good enough host. If they have to bring something for their use (save absolutely personal stuff), you are not being a good host. Also, if you are a guest and you are to stay over and you bring something that could be supplied by your hosts, say a towel, or a blanket, you are offending them, because you are saying that you think they are simply not good enough to meet your needs. If you accept someone's hospitality, you must accept it in their terms. You don't ask, you don't bring, you don't rub your lifestyle in their nose.
2. A person must show cultural knowledge in philosophy, politics, art, wines and contemporary humanity. It doesn't mean to be fully lectured in all topics, though that's desirable, nor it means you have to exhaust them thought a conversartion, but these are the milestones of an intelligent conversation.
3. One must be always gathered and stay away from tacky comments, express one's ideas clearly and be open to discussion, defending one's position with rational, reasonable, well thought arguments, never hearsays or "X said so", and if one can't deffend one's position any longer, graciously decline and recognize the other party's better argumenting. Yet do it always in a gathered way.

The life we normally lead here detours us often to less proper ways, and well, it's not really okay, but maybe a little "leger" can be excused. Go a bit hectic, a bit "décontracté", a bit eclectic and give a bit more for freedom without really hurting basic courtesy. However, as life goes by, and as the middle class manners and the cheap "burgeois", and "new rich" style comes up, sickening manners take stage. An example of this are the "quota-parties". What is this?

Quota-Parties. Someone wants to throw a party for whatever reason. Mostly Baby Showers, bachelorette parties, wedding parties and all that useless crap. The latest trend in here is to send the invitation indicating the amount to pay. Oh, and over it comes the present. Aside from this breaking all the rules of hosting, I can't see why you must make a party that others will pay for you. If you can't afford it, don't organize it. A quota-party is basically as tasteless as telling your friends the kind of party you want for yourself, invite them with the implicit request of a present AND on top of that telling them all, that they are to pay for your party. Evidently, it would outrage anyone with a minimal sense of décor.

To my ultimate horror, this kind of party has become the norm. Some people even go as far as to put up "gift lists", withthe excuse of "making sure no one gives you the same thing more than once", or "so people give me what I want" or "make sure things go well with each other. Excuse me, but my common sense would tell me that if I'm so picky about things, I rather buy them myself and then kindly request my guests to please give me no presents, letting them know that their presence is all I want, or making sure the word goes around that I have bought everything, so greeting cards, sweets, wine, books and flowers will do. Or simply, get my things, and smile at the gifts I receive, whether I like them or not. So you get three irons and four wafflers. Well, you can always place them in the market, now don't you? Discreetly, of course, or give them away to charity. Sure a Church near you would know a lovely, family who could profit from it.

However, these things, this behavior is pety and disgusting. No self respecting person would conciously go into things like that, unless, of course, they are left with no dignity, and really, people with no dignity, with no pride are better of dead.



Saturday I took a break from the thesis researching in the afternoon, and headed to the movies. Nothing really in mind, but after talking to my youngest "son", Caesar, I kinda felt like going all the way to Escazú and watch this Viggo Mortensen movie called "Eastern Promises" (which I had already seen in DVD, and which I saw up to 2/3 while waiting for Shimmy Gin the other day). I knew my kid was there with his BF, ready to watch Mamma Mía, and I kinda felt really out of place, since it really, really felt liek crashing on their date, THOUGHT I was going to watch a completely different movie. Well Eastern Promises wasn't on schedule by the time I've got there, and though my son-in-law invited me to go with them to watch Mamma Mía (which thankfully was sold out), I ended up watching "I gonna MELT" Liam Neeson in Taken. The movie is hideous, I'm sorry to say that. Has a lot of good chunks and ideas, but it was poorly developped, which I would have never expected from a movie which had the colaboration of Luc Besson (Transporter, Transporter 2, Léon, Nikita, Banlieue 13, Kiss of the Dragon), BUT it has Liam "Hot Daddy" Neeson, so who is complaining!? ^_^ After the movies I ran som errands, checked with the boys (who were still in the movie theatre), and just when I was to sit on the floor and check books on the French aisle of my favorite Bookstore (there go my manners in favor of the more "hippy" attitude), I received "the call".

"Where are you?"

Well, I was lusting after Albert Camus and his "pest", but explaingi that would either be futile or regarded as unnecessarily snobish. (Usually I stare at these books and secretly read chunks of it, just to get the taste before I allow myself to fall into the temptation of buying them. Most of these are already in our library in Spanish, but the taste of French is so seductive, more than once I have walked out of the bookstore with an armfull of French books.) So I left my haven and went to my son and son-in-law. I did found it strange that they weren't together, but then I guessed my boy went to use the facilites. Two hours with coke and popcorn tend to do that. I was ready just to greet and flee, imagining my son was going to spend the night with his man, but to my surprise, it was "bye-bye" time for them. Uhh... something wrong, my children? Cryptic talking, pent up mood covered with a stretched thin smile. My boy was sent home by his man with a handshake. I couldn't stop but wonder if that handshake would be in place also if gay couples were as acepted as straight couples.

The day before I had a lovely meeting with my son-in-law, from whom I learned that he was not willing to educate my son, which was what I was hoping for. I knew he was going to confront him and test him to decide whether to keep him or discard him, and given the fact that my son was so happy about him, I wished with all my heart that he would keep him. Hope against all hope, for everything pointed towards my child's discarding. In a way, I checked up with both that day because I felt urged to make sure my kid is fine. Yeah, there goes the overprotective mother. Good thing I have not given birth to him, or I would suffocate him! In all honesty I feared my child was hurt, and something in his voice told me he wasn't fine. He told me he was tired, yet I still feared the confrontation went pear shaped for my boy. So, and knowing that my son-in-law's main complains with my son are his manners and his lack of class, I've decided to take to myself the parent role, the "master" role and start teaching my son on the proper ways of "class". It's not the first time I impart lessons on this subject, so I have a well honed way to do so. I told my child I'd love to go eat. He claimed not to be hungry, but he would go with me and maybe get a beverage. I smiled hiding a smirk. Things were about so slowly change, if I've got my way.

He went to the Food Court, but I detoured giving him his first lesson: "if one can, one shall rather eat in a decent place, not with the mob." We went thus to La Trattoria, where I ordered bruschettas and two glasses of red wine. I straightened my spine instinctively and brought my voice down a bit, somewhat lower and deeper that my chirper tone. I picked the wine, Chilean wine, and when the waiter was gone, I turned to my child ans seriously told him:

"One important thing you should know about wines is that Italian wines are bad. One must drink only French, Hungarian, Chilean, Argentinian or Spanish. And I'm not even so sure about Spanish."

We chatted a little and I made sure to use only proper words, chosing "gentleman" instead of the more coloquial "dude", when refering to some men I have met through my life. As the wine arrived, he was surprised it wasn't chilled, so I went explaining him a few things and taught him the basics of wine tasting. To my delight, the conversation elevated and we talked several topics on different opinion and human matters, which also allowed me to start planting in my son's mind some of the seeds of my own education. The night was love, and splendor. I worked to rip him away from his need to control his money, and did it, by taking the bill in each available chance with a smile, not looking at the amounts.

"Nonsense, Darling. Let your mother take care of this..."

I can't asure that my child has changed, since I know the process takes time, but it has pleased me greatly to see him elevate, in that moment, to a more relaxed, free and more intellectually open man, rather than the child soaked in the toxic ways of his environment, poisoned with money-hunger and senseless, pointless drama.

By today I sat down and thought: "I am not his real mother, and I should not be trying to influence him to live his life my way. He hasn't asked me to change him and so I shouldn't". But I must admit, that the prospect of helping my child to become a quality man who will stand his ground, pick and fight his battles and who will never be discarded on the grounds of his manners, but rather admired... is ever so seductive...