Many of us feel that the level of civility in our society has degraded, and fear that it will degrade further in the Age of Trump. Each of us has only limited power to change that, but we are morally obligated to exercise that power – especially when it feels most hopeless. I don’t by any means minimize the potential dangers of the next four years. But start with yourself. Start with what you can control. Here’s something really simple that you can do to ever-so-slightly raise the level of civility in our society: be a courteous driver. Just try it for a week.
- Let someone into traffic in front of you.
- Smile, wave, or flick your lights to thank the person who let you into traffic.
- Stop when you see the light is turning yellow, instead of speeding through it.
- You don’t have to lay on your horn if the light has turned green and the person in front of you is sitting there talking on their phone or staring off into space. Just tap your horn; that will do.
- OK, this one is a little hard: when another driver does something stupid, don’t swear at them, even under your breath. Just let it go. They’re trying to get somewhere, same as you. They have distractions, same as you. They are imperfect and make mistakes, same as you. Take a deep breath. Let it go.
See how much better you feel at the end of the week. Let me know.
On this date in 354, Aurelius Augustine, later known as Saint Augustine, was born in Thagaste, North Africa. His mother, Monica, was a Christian. His father, Patricius was a pagan and by all accounts an unfaithful and probably abusive husband. They were an upper-class family with rights of citizenship in the Empire, but far from rich. Patricius was a local official, which meant that he collected taxes and was responsible for public works and community governance. Part of his responsibility was to ensure that the locals didn’t rebel against the Empire in any significant way. Failure in this responsibility could result in his being fined into poverty or tortured. Patricius was proud of his son, but could not afford to educate him. Augustine’s education was financed by Romanian (whom I renamed Urbanus in my book because some early readers found the name Romanian confusing). Romanian was Patricius’, and later Augustine’s, patron. The patronage system was one of the backbones of late Roman life. The patron of a peasant would be the owner of the land he farmed. The patron of citizens of a small town like Thagaste would be a local official like Patricius. The patron of a minor official like Patricius would be someone more powerful in the Roman government, and so on. Your patron advanced your career when he could, provided financial help if needed, and advocated for you if you got into any legal trouble. In turn, you were expected to show loyalty to your patron and do any favors requested of you. Kind of like the Mafia, actually.
I’m writing this on Saturday, November 5 before we know who won the election. I will not change a word before publishing it on November 9.
Al and I have travelled outside the United States many times in the past several years. That was a dream of mine back when we were a financially-struggling young couple tied down by two young children. And so, in those days, we instead brought the world to us. Through the Pittsburgh Council for International Visitors, we occasionally hosted for a meal people who were visiting our city from other countries. Over the course of 3 or 4 years, we shared meals with two visitors from Egypt, two from Germany, and many from Japan. Our favorites, though, were a family from Syria: Professor H I, his wife N and their chubby, dark-eyed baby boy. (I use only their initials here, on the off chance that using their names could bring them harm)