What Are We Afraid Of?

 I ask this question because it deserves an answer. While there are some who accuse me of being a know-it-all – and I’m not – I certainly don’t have the answer to that question even for myself. I can come up with some psuedo-psycho dribble that you have heard over and over again like: “we are afraid of success”.  I’m not. And what is there about success to be afraid of? Success puts you in a better mental space, if it is the success you seek, and who can argue with being in a better space? But the question begs for an answer.

I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of if you will share your fears.

I Met the Evil Twin…

So you know recently I posted here on Marvelously Mature about my experience with the nice and gentle man I met a few weeks ago. He was oh so chivalrous.  To some of you it may not be a big deal that a man was caught in the actual practice of being courteous. To others of us, it was a phenomenon.
Well guess what. I met the evil twin to the gentle man.

I took my grandson to basketball practice, a common weekly occurrence. The place where practice is held is an elementary school’s gym and there are no bleachers. The only way you can have a seat is to bring your own or let your butt hit the floor. Oh and there is also a toddler sized green chair that is almost always available which is usually where I sit. There are other parents there, many of them young women who let their butt’s hit the floor or, of course, bring their own sports chairs. I would bring mine but it has a seat that sits so low to the ground I may as well sit on the floor. The problem both with my chair and sitting on the floor is that I would have a hard time getting down and a near impossible task getting back up. (In case you were wondering why I didn’t bring my own chair).

On the fatal night I walk into the gym and exchange greetings as I look for the little green toddler chair. When I spot it I see a young man occupying it already. He was about 6’4”. Maybe 210 lbs. I smiled to myself because I just knew he would see me coming, know that I usually sit in that particular chair, and offer me his seat. HA!

The man didn’t even look up. Instead he stretched his legs out and pretended he was overly engrossed in his cell phone. So I wait. Surely he is just going to finish whatever text he is sending and offer me the chair. Right? Wrong.

Ten minutes later I am still standing there. Seriously, I was about to ask him to allow me the privilege of sitting down when an older gentleman insisted that I take his seat. I declined. Hell, he was older than me. But he continued to insist and told me he would go to his truck and get another chair – which he did. Oh, and I told him no because I wouldn’t be able to get back up once I sat down. He said he would help me to my feet. I rolled my eyes in the direction of the evil twin.

About ten minutes before practice was over the twin stands up and saunters to the other side of the gym. I looked at him and shook my head. He didn’t even make eye contact with me. What is happening to our young me? I would guess him to be in his early to mid 30’s. By all appearances he looks like he has some sense but as they say “the proof is in the pudding” and the pudding in this case was his manners.

My son is 25 and my grandson is 7. I would be hard pressed to believe either of them did not have enough common courtesy to offer a woman a seat, open a door, carry a bag – or whatever whether the assistance was asked for or not. Years ago I used to ride the 44 Oakland  bus in Dallas, Texas. This bus generally took passengers to a lower income neighborhood where crime stats are very high. I also rode the 64 Ferguson to another part of town where the mid to upper-middle class folk live. The men on the 44 Oakland, young and old, would stand and leave seats vacant for female passengers. And no one seemed to assume they should take the empty seat if they were not female. Once the bus got on its way and there where empty seats, then the men would sit down. Not so on the 64 Ferguson. You could be old, blind, on a cane or in labor and those middle class boys would just sit there and look straight at you. Giving up their seats was not an option.

I ask, is this how we are raising our sons or are they just forgetting their home training? I guess next practice I will go look in my mother’s garage and find one of those metal folding chairs. At least then I will have a sit I don’t need help getting out of and I won’t have to wonder if some young man will be sitting in my green toddler chair as I stand on my old arthritic knees J. Where oh where did the gentle knight of weeks gone by go? I need him to hold a few etiquette workshops for men.