The Price for Civility

One of the things I love most about going for a walk or a trike ride in the early mornings is the greetings from others out and about.  It just gets your day started right to see the smiles and waves of fellow trekkers, especially total strangers. 

All that changed in a day.  This morning, I didn’t initiate any salutation.  If someone waved, I waved back but I didn’t smile.  I didn’t feel like it.

I was almost home on my trike yesterday when I passed two women walking, maybe 30 or 40ish.  I moved over to the other side of the road to give them space when one walked over to me.  “Is that your son who rides ahead of you?”  “Yes.”  “He always shouts rude things to us when he passes and I’m sick of it.  This morning he shouted ‘Yak.  Yak.  Yak.’  I told him it wasn’t appropriate.”  They were probably yakking.  Is that so rude?  “I’m sorry I said.  If you felt it was inappropriate, I’m glad you told him.”  “Some days he tells us he’s mad at us or that we’re dressed funny.”  “That’s just his way of saying ‘Good Morning’,” I tell her, “but I’ll talk to him.”  “Well, we’re women out here alone and it’s threatening to have a man yell at us.”  At 9 o’clock in the morning, she feels unsafe in this neighborhood?  I thanked her for telling me.  I spent the day talking to Ed about just saying “Good Morning”. 

When he got home today, I asked, “Did you say ‘Good Morning’ to everyone you met this morning.”  “Yep,” he boasted. 

Sad in a way that we all have to be the same.  Homogenized.  Pasteurized.  Pedestrian.  Ordinary.  Unimaginative.  Uninspired.  Prosaic.  Humdrum.  We can’t be our authentic selves because someone might be upset.  We can’t crack a joke.  We’re all wound up tight as snare drums even when we’re walking to relax. Is it any wonder a passenger on United threw a glass of water on the man behind her who attached a gadget that prevented her from reclining her seat?  Two more similar airline incidents in one week.

It affected me a lot more than I ever imagined.  One more character crushed.  Soon we’ll all be so well-mannered and identical that no one will be able to tell us apart.  I didn’t feel like greeting anyone with a smile and a wave this morning.  Who knows whom I might offend?

The Bell Ringers

This is the Bells on Temple Square.

It’s not the same ensemble we saw at the

The Nativity Festival in the Kaysville Tabernacle

but you get the idea.

The group we saw only had 13 musicians and a conductor.

We were totally fascinated and entertained.

Each person has a different size and shaped bell;

No two hands do the same thing at the same time.

Periodically, the musicians move to different stations

To bells and instruments that make diverse sounds.

They gracefully sway with the rhythm.

Each has a smile of joy on his/her face.

They watch and follow the conductor.

And when all these sounds are put together

Melody.  Harmony.

A familiar tune.

A Christmas song.

It takes all of them

And sometimes the Conductor

To blend the ringing of the bells

To develop a cohesive symphony.

One person on the organ maybe could have made the same sounds

But that’s lonely, solitaire;

This is community; camaraderie;

All working together

To create pleasing pleasurable music.

A standing ovation.

A lesson for life?

No two are alike;

Different bells; different sizes

And clappers;

We play at different times;

We change and move.

We help each other.

We couldn’t do it alone.

We enjoy being together;

Making beautiful music.

And

We follow the Conductor

(Or it wouldn't be music.)