That night the same boy heard his father coughing and when dad didn't respond to "are you okay," he sprinted down the stairs to check on dad. Again, I was proud. And pleased.
I am charmed by manners and chivalry. I like it when men remove their hats indoors (except, of course, in temple). I am touched when they place those same hats over their hearts during the Pledge of Allegiance or Star Spangled Banner. Or when I am ushered through a door first, even though it means that I will have the first place in line (and, in kindness, I always offer that position to the door holder). I have asked my boys to stand when I enter a room; not to worry, they don't - they laugh at me, especially my husband.
I was not always this way. Indeed, I refused to say the Pledge in sixth grade (though I stood quietly and pretended, in lieu of protesting) because I didn't think that there was "liberty and justice for all." In my younger years, I infuriated quite a few men by insisting on opening my own door or paying my own way. Now, however, I find it charming. Perhaps I always did.
One of my favorite memories is my high school boyfriend pushing me to the side while walking down the street. After several shoves, I asked what he was doing. He said he was supposed to walk on the outside, nearer the street, to protect me. I likely objected on some radical feminist principle (though I don't actually recall doing so), but that moment has always made me smile.
Maybe, just maybe, my boys are on the road to chivalry themselves . . . After all, yesterday's woman did smile. And it wasn't me.
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