Cookies
August 1, 2013 - by
It was a frozen moment in time, a sort of thirty-second epiphany revealing the compounded double griefs of fading courtliness and ascending Yankeedom (I say Yankeedom because most Yankees never experienced the good fortune of having a maiden aunt whose sole purpose in life was to indoctrinate – by force if necessary – wayward nieces and straying nephews into the propriety of good manners). Here’s what happened:
One July morning the Governor strolled out of the Governor’s Mansion, crossed the street, stopped in front of a group of women demonstrating against his stand on abortion, and handed one of the ladies a plate of cookies.
The surprised women stared down at the plate, watched the Governor saunter back across the street toward the Governor’s Mansion and, recovering their wits, began chanting, “Hey Pat, that was rude! You wouldn’t give cookies to a dude.”
The Governor disappeared into the mansion; the ladies laid the plate of untouched cookies at the foot of the gate then pinned a sign to the gate explaining precisely what they thought of his new abortion law.
I still remember, years ago, my grandmother telling me (about a hundred times), Carter, when somebody you don’t like is nice to you, just say ‘Thank you.’
Now, would you say folks have gotten better – or worse – since those days?
Cookies
August 1, 2013/
It was a frozen moment in time, a sort of thirty-second epiphany revealing the compounded double griefs of fading courtliness and ascending Yankeedom (I say Yankeedom because most Yankees never experienced the good fortune of having a maiden aunt whose sole purpose in life was to indoctrinate – by force if necessary – wayward nieces and straying nephews into the propriety of good manners). Here’s what happened:
One July morning the Governor strolled out of the Governor’s Mansion, crossed the street, stopped in front of a group of women demonstrating against his stand on abortion, and handed one of the ladies a plate of cookies.
The surprised women stared down at the plate, watched the Governor saunter back across the street toward the Governor’s Mansion and, recovering their wits, began chanting, “Hey Pat, that was rude! You wouldn’t give cookies to a dude.”
The Governor disappeared into the mansion; the ladies laid the plate of untouched cookies at the foot of the gate then pinned a sign to the gate explaining precisely what they thought of his new abortion law.
I still remember, years ago, my grandmother telling me (about a hundred times), Carter, when somebody you don’t like is nice to you, just say ‘Thank you.’
Now, would you say folks have gotten better – or worse – since those days?