A Rude Variety

A Rude Variety

In Mike LaBossiere’s article “Rudeness”, he examines current trends for societal discourtesy. According to LaBossiere, “…people have been rude throughout history.” LaBossiere feels that “people are rude for a variety of reasons” which include ignorance, perception,  making a statement, perceived worth, and other causes; which was not explained in detail. Rudeness is an epidemic that has spanned generations. In older generations, neglecting your manners was considered an act of rudeness; actions as neglecting to say please, thank you, sir, mam, and interrupting conversations were considered offensive transgressions. Political rudeness has been established since the days of Jefferson and Adams. Jefferson is quoted as saying about Adams, “he is as a hideous hermaphroditical character, which has neither the force nor firmness of a man or the gentleness and sensibility of a woman.” Incivility has deep roots across cultures.  In Iran, the thumb up sign is considered an obscene gesture, very much like the American gesture of middle finger pointing upward with the rest of the fingers in a fist. Present day lack of respect includes past bad behaviors as well as new avenues such as electronic media, bad parenting, and over inflated self-perceptions.  This creates a rude variety.

With the invention of mobile devices comes a new set of rudeness and new set of manners that need to be learned. Most of society is unaware of the proper etiquette for current technology. The “Cell Yell” is one behavior that most people can agree is rude. The Cell Yell is when a person talks loudly for everyone in the general area to hear every detail of their one-sided conversation. This particular act disrupts other conversations and the work flow of employees.   LaBossiere’s assertion that certain phone behaviors that maybe considered rude by adults are seen as perfectly acceptable to younger generations needs re-examining. Texting is one behavior that can be considered uncouth, depending on the offender and the offended. He states as an example, “So when a student whips out her cell phone to answer a text while I’m explaining her paper grade to her, I see it as rude and she probably sees it as socially acceptable behavior”.  Phone etiquette should be expected and needs to be learned. There is a time and place for texting and calls. It is not during instruction, conversations, movies, meetings, concerts, or meal times. Socially acceptable behavior needs to be redefined.

One aspect missing from LaBossiere’s article is the parenting facet. In older generations, parents, grandparents, and community taught children manners and respect for elders. Please, thank you, sir and mam were expected and chided if forgotten. One was taught to relinquish a chair for an elder and not to interrupt adult conversations. It seems that in today’s society, selfishness is prevalent. This selfishness is mistaken for self-esteem. Young people have no problem interjecting into conversations that does not involve them.  Parental coddling, over protective adults, and “everyone’s a winner attitude” has fostered the over inflated self-esteem leading to current excessively bad-mannered, self-indulged young people.  There are numerous accounts of people charging through crowds without excuse or apology; unruly children in public places such as movie theaters and libraries without correction or instruction from their parents; and older adults modeling rude behavior at sporting events and while driving. Rude begets rude. LaBossiere states that, “One reason is practical: people respond negatively to rudeness and they remember poor treatment. Hence, they will be less inclined to help rude people and might take opportunities to retaliate.”

Insolence is often used as leverage or perceived leverage. A person may be boorish in order to acquire something they want or to influence a person to perform in desired way. This view was notably missing from LaBossiere’s article. However, he does address rudeness toward others as “relative worth”. For example, educational elitist feel they are superior over those who don’t possess a college degree or a degree equivalent to their own.  He writes, “People tend to be rude to those they regard as being less useful, inferior, or unable to retaliate.”  Which brings the question: Is there an appropriate time to be rude? “In some cases, it is a matter of making a statement”, says LaBossiere. “By being rude, a person can attempt to show that she is superior.” Pop TV culture such as American Idol has judges whose verdict is often scathing, insensitive, and delivered in a coarse manner reducing some contestants to tears.

Rudeness is a matter of perception, especially across cultures. In France, greeting in French rather than English is considered polite, even if you do not speak French. The French are not smiley people. It is not a part of their daily repertoire, unlike Americans who smile for almost any reason. Loud, rowdy behavior from tourists is worthy of the famous French snub. Chinese culture requires elaborate politeness for close friends, family, and business partners but indifference toward strangers. The Chinese consider showing the bottoms of the feet or the soles of shoe extremely distasteful. The older generation tends to be more offensive than the younger generation which is in stark contrast to western cultures.

It is believed that courtesy is rewarded with courtesy. “While it is anecdotal evidence, I have found that most people are nice to me when I am nice to them.” writes LaBossiere. Politeness is preferred by society.  People respond well to courtesy.  According to LaBossiere, “While there are many moral theories, one basic principle that tends to hold universally is the notions that you should treat others as you would want to be treated.” It pays to be nice.

Mike LaBossiere’s article on “Rudeness” touches on a few of the current issues contributing to impoliteness. Mobile Devices, generational societal changes, defiance, and arrogance are listed as contributors. Today’s society does seem to be more insolent that of generations past. His article is a much generalized view on a very detailed subject. Mr. LaBossiere should elaborate more on what he deems as generational changes to behavior. He neglects to include parental influences, cultural influences, and the position of leverage or manipulation.

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LaBossiere. “Rudeness.” Talking Philosophy – The Philosopher’s Magazine. Nov 11, 2008

Old Cat

Chapter One: Old Cats

Tubby is our fat, beige, tabby cat. He’s thirteen years old—around seventy-eight in human terms—and carries himself with all the slow, demanding dignity of a feline senior citizen. He’s always been a gentle soul, the kind of cat you can scoop up, cradle like a baby, or swaddle like a burrito without much protest. Tubby doesn’t run from people—he seeks them out. He finds humans with an almost tactical precision, pressing himself into laps, curling up on feet, and leaving trails of his abundantly shedding fur behind him like love letters written in beige.

Tubby is also a master manipulator. He’s the kind of cat who has honed the art of shameless begging to near-professional levels. He chooses his people with intention and answers only to the name he believes is right for him. When he came to live with us, my youngest child was three. We named him Valentino, believing it was the perfect fit. He disagreed. We tried Romeow, Mufasa, and a plain old Kitty, but none were quite right—according to him.

Then one day, I saw him sitting in the yard looking a bit plump. Without thinking, I called, “Hey there, Tubby.” He looked up, locked eyes with me, and marched right over. He has answered to “Tubby” ever since.

Tubby has been the best playmate a child could want. He’s been dressed in doll clothes, paraded around in a stroller, worn as a fuzzy boa, used as a pillow, chauffeured on car rides, and once even played the part of a turkey locked in a plastic Playskool oven. His patience is near saintly—until medicine is involved. Then he turns into a furry wrecking ball with claws. Trying to medicate him takes strength, strategy, and sometimes divine intervention.

He’s been blessed with relatively good health. Outside of routine vet visits, the occasional MRSA outbreak, and his shots, he’s been low maintenance. That changed one Mother’s Day.

That morning, he approached me—loud, insistent, and clearly hungry, even though he had just eaten. As I bent down to pet him, I noticed his face. His right cheek was swollen, and his mouth wouldn’t close properly. He looked like a chipmunk with a jaw full of invisible seeds. I knew a vet trip was in order.

My husband, ever pragmatic (and possibly a little too comfortable with country-style logic), muttered something about a tranquilizer and a shovel. Tubby, who seems to understand English when it matters most, promptly avoided him for the rest of the day.

We suspected MRSA again. The kids took the news hard. My son escaped into his video game. My youngest cried. My eldest suggested a group photo with Tubby “just in case,” which no one—not even the cat—was in the mood for.

At the vet’s office, we braced ourselves for bad news. The vet took one look and said it wasn’t MRSA—it was a dental abscess. A bad one. Surgery was needed. My husband stared at the estimate and grumbled, “Six hundred dollars for an old cat?” I reminded him of all the years of loyalty, entertainment, and quiet comfort this “old cat” had given us, especially the children. He gave me the look—the look—but he conceded.

Six hours later, Tubby came home missing half his whiskers, stitched up and sporting the latest in cone fashion. My husband came home with a frown the size of Texas and a much lighter wallet.

Post-op care was a circus. Tubby hated the antibiotics. I got more medicine on the bathroom mirror than into his mouth. Wrapping a 20-pound squirming cat in a towel while shooting meds into his mouth should count as an Olympic event. I applied warm compresses to his cheek—something he surprisingly enjoyed—and cleaned his cone, the counters, and myself. Feeding him meant kneeling, hand-delivering pâté mixed with antibiotics under the cone rim, and hoping for the best. He ate most of it, then tried to bury the rest under an invisible pile of imaginary dirt. It was his usual review of any subpar menu item.

But he got better. The swelling went down. The stitches dissolved. The cone came off. Tubby returned to the great wilds of the living room, once again master of his favorite sunspots and champion beggar of treats.

He doesn’t roam the neighborhood anymore. He doesn’t hunt birds or chase squirrels like he used to. Now, he naps. He eats. He begs. He sleeps some more. He is fat, old, slow, and walks with a limp. But he is happy. And so am I.

I know his time will come. I’ve made peace with that. And when it does, I will help him cross the bridge with the love and dignity he has always given us. But for now, Tubby still has purpose.

He reminds us—daily—that old cats still matter. That being loved and giving love never stops having value. He is well loved. And that is enough.