Civility…a lost art

My first visit to North Idaho was in 1986, the second 10 months later. Back home in Flagstaff, Ariz., friends asked about Idaho; I said it was civil, that people opened the doors for each other at the post office and smiled. Idahoans seemed to take life easier than in Arizona and things moved slower in Flagstaff than in Chicago, my hometown.

After we moved to Sandpoint, my son Fred, then 14, said he had figured out my career path; every time we moved it was to a smaller town where I made less money. Since then I have fooled him by moving to larger towns where I made less money. I am attracted by the laid back atmosphere, friendliness and civility of small-town USA.

After 23 years in Idaho I am re-evaluating. Last week, a driver barely slowed for a stop sign and turned in front of me without signaling; she was on a cell phone. I followed her through two more stop signs, both of which she ran, and three more turns, none of which she signaled. Her behavior was not civil.

I frequently go north on Fourth Street and turn left onto Honeysuckle. Very few southbound drivers signal right-hand turns; doing so would be courteous and efficient. I had a student who thought failing to use a turn signal should be a capital offense. He moved to the San Juan Islands; boaters are probably more polite.

It was not always difficult to vacate diagonal parking places in Hayden shopping centers. Other drivers used to yield. Now folks ignore back-up lights and courtesy goes by the boards. Perhaps the folks zipping through parking lots are also opening doors for me but I doubt it.

When I get insufferably cynical, someone lets me into a long line of traffic or suggests I check out first at Super 1 with my three items. Some people are always civil. Wayne, the meat department manager at Albertsons, Daryl the cashier at Rite Aid, Brenda at the Coeur d'Alene Press, and Debbie at the Schini Family dental office come to mind. They are always polite; when they have bad days, they do not make anyone suffer.

Years ago I taught nonprofit management and discovered many students did not know society's conventions. And so, I undertook to teach some life skills such as how to mix a drink, walk, throw or receive a dozen roses on stage, and which fork to use at a dinner party. Those things are not rocket science. A male student looked very strangely at me as I explained one uses the fork on the outside of the place setting first; standardizing table settings means dinner guests are less likely to be embarrassed. He said his mom just tossed everything in the center of the table and people grabbed what was needed. It was the same when guests were present. Eating dinner there probably required turn signals.

Years ago, I held the door for an art student who was balancing a load of books and supplies. She said to me, "Do I look like a cripple?" I explained I would also hold the door for a football player but the explanation fell on deaf ears. She was not in a civil mood. Today she probably throws all the silverware in the center of the table and runs stop signs. I think I saw a drawing board and t-square in the car that cut me off in the parking lot the other day. Or maybe she is a telemarketer.

Tim Hunt, the son of a linotype operator, is a retired college professor and nonprofit administrator who lives in Hayden with his wife and three cats. He can be reached at linotype.hunt785@gmail.com.