Manners

This is a polite country, or at least one that tries to be polite as much of the time as possible. Manners are the lubricant that have made it possible for this country to function, and a lot of those manners were exported to Canada.

In Toronto, this sign would say “NO BIKES!”

Not here.

Of course, I run into my fair share of spitting, swearing yobs on the street, of disorderly drunks, of crude and unpleasant dimwits, just as I do in Toronto. But there is an attempt to nurture manners despite all that, despite the fact that language, here and at home, seems to be deteriorating rapidly and the obscenities that I hear as an ever growing part of everyday speech I find depressing.I do notice one group of people here who seem to assiduously avoid foul language: immigrants, Somalis, Syrians, people for whom English is clearly a newly-acquired asset. It’s an asset they treat with respect.

When passengers get off a bus here, they almost always say thank you to the driver, as if he or she were, not a poorly paid employee of the transit company, but an old mate who has gone out of his or her way to give them a lift. I find myself saying thank you as well because good manners are infectious.

Last week, as I walked into the library, I  saw a sign that apologized for the noise being caused by a few workers doing some minor renovations inside.

I wonder what would happen in Toronto if ALL the public signs and notices were written more politely? What if signs said “Please don’t park here.” or “We’d really appreciate it if you didn’t spit.” That would be what many people would call propaganda, but history demonstrates that, if you model manners, people follow.

Or, as countless commentators have said before, good manners are something that everybody, even the poorest, can afford.