When I was young, my mother who raised my sister and I, had some rules. One rule was,
“Never begin eating until the host sits down to join you.”
Seems simple enough. To my sister and I, it made sense. We were guest and enjoying a great meal by a wonderful cook. It was the least we could do.
My mother never had to scold us for not following this rule. We were not in fear of our mom. We just thought it was the right thing to do. One day an event happened at my grandmother’s apartment on the east side of Manhattan. My grandmother made her famous (it was awful but for some reason we all loved it) spaghetti and meat balls. There was ten people there. Eight adults and two children. My sister Shelly could not have been more then eight which would have made me five.
The bowls of food were served family style. The adults did not help my grandmother set the table; we did. The adults did not help my grandmother serve; we did. Yet the adults were the first to serve themselves. They took no care to make sure there was enough for everyone. They gave themselves a portion and instantly began eating like it was their last meal.
My sister and I sat quietly, not moving but looking at each other. Nothing had to be said. No eating until Grandma sat down. We watched the adults go for seconds and thirds. When they were done, they did not bring their dishes to the kitchen. Instead, they went to a chair or couch, and some feel asleep. My sister and I were the only ones left at the table. Our plates were empty and clean.
Finally, my grandma came out. To her shock, we were still at the table with empty clean plates and a look of horror on our faces like we did something wrong. She looked at us both and asked,
“What is the matter, are you not hungry, do you feel sick?”
We answered together,
“Our mother does not allow us to eat until the host sits down to join us.
She told us that would be rude.”
My grandmother lost it. She, a very unemotional woman, began to cry. She then went back into the kitchen, made more pasta and we three eat a fine meal of spaghetti and meatballs.
This rule my mother gave my sister and I did not have to be written down. It did not have to be a regulation or policy. It did not have to be a law. It was just good behavior and manners. It showed courtesy to the others joining you for a group meal. This unwritten rule has followed me for my entire life. At age 64, I look at the world and ask myself,
“Where are the unwritten rules that simply showed kindness and class?”
In politics, there is an unwritten rule that when a president leaves office kindness and class need to be used. They give the new administration time to get their sea legs. It is an unwritten rule. It is kindness, courtesy and professional. It is simply the right thing to do. Not for ever, this is politics however for many months.
This is not happening today. The justification is that an election was stolen. It was a rigged election. Therefore, it was unconstitutional and not valid. No court of law has had any proof of this claim. Every day we find out that many of these claims were just made up. They were designed to create a division in our country. Now, we must go to court to make our case, but it does not matter. We have set up a system that creates no winners just losers. So sad to see all this at the twilight of my life.
I feel every day that things like,
“Thou shalt not steal!”
is rephased to
“Thou shalt not steal
unless you can delay the court case for decades than deny that the court played fair.”
I owned my own company for close to 40 years. I can’t remember having a contract with many of my clients. We made a verbal agreement and part of it was,
“If you don’t want my services again, simply don’t hire me.”
I never had a lawsuit; I never had a client not pay me. 40 years, no lawsuits. No major disagreements and no written contracts. Why? It was what used to be an unwritten rule.
“Don’t start eating until the host sits down to join”.
When I was young, my mother who raised my sister and I, had some rules. One rule was,
“Never begin eating until the host sits down to join you.”
Seems simple enough. To my sister and I, it made sense. We were guest and enjoying a great meal by a wonderful cook. It was the least we could do.
My mother never had to scold us for not following this rule. We were not in fear of our mom. We just thought it was the right thing to do. One day an event happened at my grandmother’s apartment on the east side of Manhattan. My grandmother made her famous (it was awful but for some reason we all loved it) spaghetti and meat balls. There was ten people there. Eight adults and two children. My sister Shelly could not have been more then eight which would have made me five.
The bowls of food were served family style. The adults did not help my grandmother set the table; we did. The adults did not help my grandmother serve; we did. Yet the adults were the first to serve themselves. They took no care to make sure there was enough for everyone. They gave themselves a portion and instantly began eating like it was their last meal.
My sister and I sat quietly, not moving but looking at each other. Nothing had to be said. No eating until Grandma sat down. We watched the adults go for seconds and thirds. When they were done, they did not bring their dishes to the kitchen. Instead, they went to a chair or couch, and some feel asleep. My sister and I were the only ones left at the table. Our plates were empty and clean.
Finally, my grandma came out. To her shock, we were still at the table with empty clean plates and a look of horror on our faces like we did something wrong. She looked at us both and asked,
“What is the matter, are you not hungry, do you feel sick?”
We answered together,
“Our mother does not allow us to eat until the host sits down to join us.
She told us that would be rude.”
My grandmother lost it. She, a very unemotional woman, began to cry. She then went back into the kitchen, made more pasta and we three eat a fine meal of spaghetti and meatballs.
This rule my mother gave my sister and I did not have to be written down. It did not have to be a regulation or policy. It did not have to be a law. It was just good behavior and manners. It showed courtesy to the others joining you for a group meal. This unwritten rule has followed me for my entire life. At age 64, I look at the world and ask myself,
“Where are the unwritten rules that simply showed kindness and class?”
In politics, there is an unwritten rule that when a president leaves office kindness and class need to be used. They give the new administration time to get their sea legs. It is an unwritten rule. It is kindness, courtesy and professional. It is simply the right thing to do. Not for ever, this is politics however for many months.
This is not happening today. The justification is that an election was stolen. It was a rigged election. Therefore, it was unconstitutional and not valid. No court of law has had any proof of this claim. Every day we find out that many of these claims were just made up. They were designed to create a division in our country. Now, we must go to court to make our case, but it does not matter. We have set up a system that creates no winners just losers. So sad to see all this at the twilight of my life.
I feel every day that things like,
“Thou shalt not steal!”
is rephased to
“Thou shalt not steal
unless you can delay the court case for decades than deny that the court played fair.”
I owned my own company for close to 40 years. I can’t remember having a contract with many of my clients. We made a verbal agreement and part of it was,
“If you don’t want my services again, simply don’t hire me.”
I never had a lawsuit; I never had a client not pay me. 40 years, no lawsuits. No major disagreements and no written contracts. Why? It was what used to be an unwritten rule.
“Don’t start eating until the host sits down to join”.