A New Civility

This weekend, for reasons totally irrelevant here, my daughter Shannon and her two dogs Happiness and Ozzie Bearcame to live with us.

This has entailed sacrifices, of course. I no longer have my own bathroom, but since there are several in the house, that’s minor. I can’t lie around anymore in my underwear, and body sounds are now taboo. But these are also pretty minor. And the sacrifices on Shannon's part are certainly much greater.

What she has given us by her presence is far more important than any sacrifices we have to make: She is civilizing us.

No longer are we watching television as we eat dinner on flimsy TV trays in the family room (how embarrassing to admit it!). Rather, we are sitting at the Thomas Moser boat top table under the chandelier we bought in Venice, and eating with proper manners. I have long chided one of my grandchildren that he should make friends with his silverware and napkin, and he has. And we, who have long-standing intimacy and affection for our flatware and linen, have found new civility, grace, and courtesy as we dine each evening.

We sit and have actual conversation while we eat. We discuss the day’s events. We bemoan the economy, we explore the notion of decent public transportation, we ruminate on the meaning of life as well as on the entree.

As we dine, we let the dogs lie under the table and parse the difference between to lay and to lie. Even the dogs are practicing grace and grammar.

(I must interject here that Ann and I have lunch practically every day in the dining room and have conversation over left-overs from the night before. We have breakfast on the sun porch and read the newspaper each morning. In the winter we glory at the snow swirling around us on three sides while we sit, safe and warm, inside.)

After dinner, the dishes go directly into the magic machine rather than cluttering up the counter. Shannon does dishes. (I have a pre-nuptial agreement that I don’t have to do dishes, something Ann has honored for over 41 years, so far. A friend used to go bonkers every time I mentioned it until Ann said it was the friend’s problem, not ours.) She scrubs pots and pans in the evening, even after getting a manicure on the way home from work.

We were glad that she was able to move in with us. We are even happier that she’s going to be staying a while.