MANNERS

The tired ex-teacher edged closer to the counter at Kmart. Her left leg hurt and she hoped she had taken all of her pills for the day: the ones for her high blood pressure, dizziness and a host of other ills. Thank goodness I retired years ago, she thought to herself. I don't have the energy to teach these days. Just before the line to the counter formed, she spotted a young man with four children and a pregnant wife or girlfriend in tow. The teacher couldn't miss the tattoo on his neck. He's been to prison, she thought. She continued checking him out. His white T-shirt, shaved hair and baggy pants led her to surmise, He's a gang member.

The teacher tried to let the man go ahead of her. "You can go first," she offered. "No, you go first," he insisted. "No, you have more people with you," said the teacher. "We should respect our elders," parried the man. And with that, he gestured with a sweeping motion indicating the way for the woman. A brief smile flickered on her lips as she hobbled in front of him. The teacher in her decided she couldn't let the moment go and she turned back to him and asked "Who taught you your good manners?"

"You did Mrs. Simpson, in third grade."

By Paul Karrer - from Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul,