The lost art of manners

This past Friday, while making the trip home from Truro, I came upon a fatal accident that had just happened. The highway was immediately closed. They eventually re-routed us, and due to the addition of rush hour traffic, we ended up in a traffic jam like none I have ever seen.

I waited in four kilometers of traffic for over an hour, only to be turned around and wait in four more. This was just to get to an exit where the old highway was backed up from Enfield to Halifax. It was a nightmare and it took me over four and half hours to get home.

But I was patient, as were many around me. I wasn’t going to complain because, universe willing, I was at least going to get home, while two others were not.

I cried three times on that drive home. Partially from exhaustion, and partially because I felt for these two people and their families that I didn’t even know. 

But the polite, respectful behavior, and even a few smiles, from the people around me made the drive more bearable. Not so much once I got back to the city.

When I finally did make it back to the city I was drained. Emotionally and physically.

But I needed a new cell phone. Mine was dead to the world and I have no home phone. I knew it was Black Friday, I knew the mall would be insane. But I decided to brave it. Even though I hate holiday time at the mall because people can be assholes. It seems to come out more during the “season of giving”.

I braced myself when I was cut off in the parking lot and someone took the spot I was headed for. I held it together when twice a door was shut in my face instead of held for me when I was two steps behind. I responded with only a “you’re welcome” when the people that I held the door open for barged through without a “thank you”.

I stood in line for 35 minutes to talk to someone. That’s fine. I expected this. It’s Black Friday. I watched the two girls working get run off their feet. I watched various people push their way to the counter and demand that they get served without waiting in line. I listened to 35 minutes of complaining, bitching and moaning from the line behind me. I had several people push through the line without an “excuse me”.

Here is a hint to those who like to loudly complain: I did not want to be waiting in line either. I had a long day. I would have preferred to have been anywhere else. Listening to you complain, does not make the wait any easier. For you, or anyone around you.  If you do not want to wait, avoid the mall from perhaps October to February. Especially on Black Friday. The people working are not your bitches. They are people, trying to do the best they can with what they have.

Do us all a favor and shop online.

But I digress. Sort of.

When it was my turn, I gave the girl behind the counter a big smile and made a joke about the cranky people behind me. She looked at me warily and finally laughed when she realized I was actually making a joke. She looked beaten down.

When everything was said and done, she ended up upgrading some of my services without my asking. Simply because I wasn’t an asshole. I have worked in customer service and I know how much a smile or a kind word can mean from someone on a busy day.

It ended up being a decent experience because I chose to be friendly and polite. I never once lost my smile, even to the rudest people.

I will not get dragged to the bitter dark side. 

So I propose that during this holiday season, and maybe even all year round (gasp), we re-investigate the art of manners. The art of kindness. The art of patience. Because all three are tied together. The world does not revolve around any of us as individuals, none of us is more important than the other. Your actions affect countless others around you. It’s time we remembered this and became aware of it again.

Hold the door. Say “excuse me”, “please” and “thank you”. Smile at the cranky girl or guy at the cash register because maybe they have had a bad day. Maybe they are on the defensive for a reason. If someone is rude, smile and be polite back. If you find you have a long wait, sing a song, plan your grocery list. Or even take a few deep breaths and just be.

Sometimes it just nice to smile at a stranger for no reason. Maybe that’s all they needed that day.

The funny thing is, the kinder you are, the better it will make your day, not just someone else’s.

What if it was me?

Photo courtesy of cbcnews.ca

On Wednesday of last week, Harley Lawrence, a 62 year old homeless man, died in a suspicious fire in a bus shelter in Berwick.

This story has haunted me for several days now and my heart goes out to the families and community that knew and loved him. It’s been heartening to see the outpouring of love and support.

I don’t know what has struck me the most about this story; the sadness at such a lonely and unfortunate end to a life; the cruelty of it possibly being deliberate; or maybe it is the part of me that is reminded that there are homeless men, women, teenagers, children and veterans across our province that suffer every single day.

I hand out change on street corners or intersections. I’ve bought coffees and sandwiches. But, at the end of the day, I don’t do much to change it or to help in any big way. It’s easy to forget. Because it’s not me.

But what if it was me? What keeps me from a life on the streets?

It is said an enormous percentage of Canadians are only two pay checks away from being homeless.

I have lived much of my adult life only one or two pay checks away from not being able to make ends meet. I have struggled from time to time myself to pay a heat or power bill or buy groceries but I have always managed.

I am lucky to have family and friends who would never allow me to end up on the streets. (That’s not to say Lawrence didn’t. From all accounts he had family that cared for him very much and I can’t pretend to know the details of that.)

But not everyone has people who care.

I have no issues with addiction, I have a decent education that will continue to increase my pay as I get experience.  

I don’t think I have any mental health problems. At least the voices in my head tell that me that I don’t…

In short, I am not homeless because I have been lucky.

I realize there is prejudice and misunderstanding that exists around the issue of homelessness. There is even more prejudice and misunderstanding around the abuse, addiction and mental health and financial issues that can lead to homelessness in the first place.

It is likely this prejudice, mixed with pure cruelty, which led to Lawrence’s death being suspicious.

Imagine, believing that someone is less than you because they are down on their luck.

It can all be hard to understand from the outside looking in.

But if you are unable to understand abuse, addiction, or mental health issues than you should count yourself lucky.

If you are unable to understand what its like to lose everything and find yourself on the streets with no one to turn to, with people feeling it’s OK to hurt or harass you or to simply avoid eye contact, than you should be grateful.

Because all that means is that you have yet to find yourself in their shoes.

With fall quickly turning into winter, there will be men, women and children who will not have a hot meal, a warm coat or a bed to sleep in. You can help make one day, or two or three, a little more bearable.

Many of our homeless are veterans, so celebrate Remembrance Day by helping out at a shelter.

Celebrate the season of giving by donating old coats, boots or mittens. Shelters are also in need of bedding, toiletries, and other items.

There are a million ways to help.

To me the best way to remember Harley Lawrence is to help others in need. Someday it could be you.

If you don't know where to start, here are a couple of links for you to check out.

Shelter NS

Phoenix House  

Can’t donate? Send some warm words. They are free and will be passed along to those in the shelter. You might make someone’s day.