#basic civilization

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

Is it proper to invite one’s family and friends to the hospital, preoperation of course, in order to make one’s bequests?

Gentle Reader:

The deathbed family gathering is a social event of such drama and excitement that Miss Manners cannot understand why it is so seldom staged in modern times. Perhaps potential hosts don’t feel up to it, or perhaps they think of it too late. Miss Manners commends your effort to keep such a vital custom alive.

Here are some guidelines:

Be sure to invite friends and relatives who are incompatible, if not sworn enemies. This is no time to consider who will be comfortable with whom. The thought of life’s fragility, as demonstrated by you, should keep them from killing one another, and it should give you a sense of peace to watch them all try to control their jealousy and greed.

It is not necessary, in fact it is unseemly, for you to provide any refreshment for your guests. You are feeding them hope, which is what people live on.

Keep your bequests vague. “I want to give you my most ancient and treasured possession” is better than “I’m leaving you my baseball card collection.” You don’t want your actual death to be an anticlimax.

Omit none of your guests from your speech. It is an ordinary social convention that no person should be left out, and it continues to apply in the deathbed scene. It is, after all, unforgivable to ask someone to make a special trip in order to be snubbed. In the spirit of vagueness described in (3), you may say, instead, “You, Cousin Atherton, may be assured that I have remembered everything you have done for me since we were children.”

It is not necessary, after this type of social event, for the host to make a quick exit. You may be happy to hear that it is perfectly correct to recover from the operation and, when you have regained your strength, to have a relapse and stage the entire event again, provided you vary the details to keep everyone alert.

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

I suffer from several chronic illnesses. Neither illness is curable, but I have hope for the future.

I am is pain every day, and am quite fatigued. I have been made to quit so many of my hobbies and interests, as well as my job and volunteer work. My weeks are filled with visits to various physicians; I must take quite a lot of medications, and I require a lot of rest. Many days, I do not feel up to going out, but when I do, I take great care in my grooming and dress, so that I do not look hazard and sick, I am happy to stay close to home, but inevitably, some errand or social obligation will require me to go out.

How do I respond to people’s demands to know what is wrong with me? I do not like to discuss my illness, so I tend to say as little as possible. Also, how do I respond to the shocking and awful thing people say to me?

Some people demand to know what “they” are doing for me, why aren’t I cured by, now, and infer that my physicians are a bunch of charlatans. I have been accused of being a hypochondriac, needing a facial or a vacation, and told that if I would just have a baby or get a job, that I wouldn’t have time to be sick. I have been told that my illness does not exist, and that I need mental health counselling. These outbursts are made by family members, “friends”, and acquaintances of my husband.

When I am tired and in pain, these comments seem especially cruel. It would be easy to be snappish, or to remind these folks to mind their own business, but it is more painful to me to think that I have offended someone by my reply. How can I respond without alienating these folks?

Gentle Reader:

Like you, Miss Manners would very much not like to hear from people who believe the universal treatment is to talk about one’s illnesses to whoever is brash enough to ask, and that the only reason for refusing to do so is a false shame that stands in the way of recovery. Furthermore, she thinks that people who practice medicine without licences at least ought to observe the courtesy of not undermining the treatment of their legitimate colleagues.

As you say, it would be easy to be snappish back- but rude. It will be easier to be polite if you make it a practice to focus on their motivation- generously presuming it to be concern for you rather than nosiness- and to steadfastly ignore the rest.

Keep repeating “I appreciate your concern,” to whatever they say. Any attempt to explain your disease or defend your treatment admits them to a discussion of your case for which they are not eligible, socially or professionally.

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

What is your response to a lewd remark?

Gentle Reader:

People do not make lewd remarks to Miss Manners. If they did, her response would be a sweet smile, accompanied by a naive but earnest request to explain exactly what the remark meant. The result would be that even if a person made a first lewd remark to Miss Manners, he would never make a second.

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

My niece, married several years with two children (one newborn), discovered that her husband is a serial cheater. He travels on business weekly and routinely uses the Internet to set up liaisons in destination cities. She’s heartbroken, confused, and unsure of her next move.

How do I handle the next meeting with the scoundrel, which is likely to be a family gathering in my sister’s home? I know I can’t kill or even seriously wound him, but neither can I be the hail-fellow-well-met uncle of the past. Should I greet him with a flat “Hello,” and move away, leaving no doubt that I want no further conversation? Must I shake hands, which I would rather not? I don’t want to embarrass my sister or my niece, but I can’t pretend I’m glad to see the husband or even want to be in the same room with him even though we formerly were very friendly and have shared many happy times.

Gentle Reader:

Shunning scoundrels is one of society’s duties, sadly neglected by those who refuse to pass judgment, and who may also have discovered that scoundrels sometimes make lively companions. Miss Manners is glad to see that you are ready to do your part.

As you have noticed, it is a complicated part. However much you may want to protect society in general from cads, it is your niece in particular whose betrayal arouses you indignation. And she- understandably with a newborn baby- has not yet decided what she will do. She may reconcile with him, in which case cutting him off will cut you off from her. Even if she divorces him, she is likely to maintain some sort of relationship in regard to their children, and this may occasion your meeting him in your house or your sister’s. You are therefore not free to administer the worst snub, which is to refuse to shake his hand, hold any conversation with him, indeed, to recognize that he exists.

The setting you want, until you see what happens, is not freezing, but cool. The flat hello and turning away is fine, and if you turn away fast enough, you may be able to avoid shaking hands. In case of divorce, you can lower this to cold, which precludes anything but a curt nod, yet if there is a reconciliation, you can turn it up to lukewarm, adding short neutral conversation.

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

When my father gets in a bad mood, he screams and shouts and carries on over the least little thing. This morning, it was the toaster. The toast wasn’t the way he likes it, or at least that’s what he said, and he yelled at the toaster. We think he was really mad at Mother, but he didn’t say anything to her, just kept banging at the poor innocent toaster. He was completely out of control. Isn’t that considered bad manners?

Gentle Reader:

No, and that is not considered being out of control, either. Everyone must shout once in a while, and it is both correct and disciplined to remember that appliances are meant to be shouted at, but people are not.

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

My wife objects if I use her bath towel when mine isn’t handy by. Don’t you think that kind of “formality” is a bit much?

Gentle Reader:

Certainly not. Your wife is quite right. Marriage is no excuse for that sort of intimacy.

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

Friends of ours have had a daughter who has just learned the joys of speaking. Lately, when I’ve been speaking to the mother on the phone and little Olga has been in the vicinity and has expressed a desire to speak to me, mother immediately puts her on the phone. I am then obliged to say “Hi!” to which the reply is a knowing “Hi!” Unless I continue asking questions or otherwise blubbering something to which the reply is never anything but a monotonic blurt, there could be minutes of silence.

I have reached the point where I dread calling my friend, for having to experience the above-described delight. I have learned from this and will never attempt such a thing with my future children and friends. Help, if you would be so kind. My friend does not work, so there is rarely an opportunity to talk with her when Olga is not nearby.

Gentle Reader:

Miss Manners is pleased to hear that you have learned from this experience. No one except a grandparent should be expected to hold telephone conversations with people who have not yet learned conversation (as opposed from learning “to talk”), and even they should not be pushed too far. You might try making the child feel important by entrusting her with a message. The message is, “Tell Mommy I said bye-bye”

[miss--manners]

Dear Miss Manners:

When an acquaintance interrupts himself while telling an uncompelling story to ask, with sincere concern, “Am I boring you?” what is the proper reply?

Gentle Reader:

“Good heavens, no. I hope you don’t think I was yawning because I’m bored. Not in the least. Please go on.”

The morally alert will now seize on the possibility that this may not be the rigid truth. Miss Manners does not apologize for that. The virtue of truth-telling does not always trump the necessity for kindness.