Today a friend used the term, smug…someone showing an excessive pride in oneself laced with arrogance and conceit. Just four letters told me everything I needed to know about the person in question.
Words, as an English teacher I once had said, are our friends who express what we want too say, along wth all there is to learn. Funny I still remember Mrs. Tucker’s words since I wasn’t exactly Emily Dickinson in her class.
I’m sure, the woman who confiscated my Vogues and Cosmos would roll in her grave knowing I turned into a writer.
The word appropriate, has come up for me a lot lately.
An adjective meaning, suitable and proper in all circumstances. Fitting behavior, apt and applicable, seemly and right…polite in all actions.
I know…when does that happen?
I like what appropriate suggests. Manners in old-school packaging, what we were taught as kids by our parents as well as in school. Now it seems almost unheard of to teach a kid, please and thank you, don’t interrupt and cover your mouth when you sneeze.
To sum it up, the behavior of others has become chronically, inappropriate, from cell phone use in public places, to stepping in front to get ahead. Allowing doors to slam in the face of another, living in a self-absorbed, selfish state.
Being appropriate is right up there with expecting to find a clean, operable phone booth to make an old-fashioned call. It just doesn’t exist anymore though some of us old-timers still practice its basics.
Talk about a word that should be dug up and dusted off along with humility, it’s dying relative.
Humility…what the fuck is that?
It’s called modesty Kemosabe, downplaying one’s importance leaving pride, and hubris, Greek for pride, at the door.
I can’t speak for you, but manners soothe me. They suggest safety and comfort, to be at home with myself even when in the company of inappropriate behavior.
That person crashing through the door texting their Facebook page what they had for lunch, who they’re having for dinner, and did you see my new shoes on Instagram, has become my predator…the enemy…the fly in the everlasting ointment. With the exception of maybe ISIS, there isn’t a group who troubles me more.
I feel it’s an appropriate response to long for a time when we had built-in regard for one other.
If you find a clean, working phone booth, let me know.