Politeness

I grew up in Central Kentucky at the nexus of two major systems of politeness. The dominant one in my area was that of the Antebellum South, identified locally as "Old Money." In this system, you can't just have money, you have to have had it in your family for generations. And even if a recent ancestor spent all the money, you are still considered to have it if you can fake it. In my town, the richest man was not allowed to join the most prestigious country club because his money was new--he had earned it himself. (Lots of other folks couldn't join the country club either, so he was in good company.)

Because my family didn't have a lot of money, old or new, I grew up adjacent to the Old Money system. In high school, girls would get on the bus and discuss something called cotillion--it was some kind of social club that would ensure that old money kids would marry each other.

The Old Money system was based on appearance--the appearance of having money through wearing certain types of clothing, the appearance of being nice to other people, the appearance of having one's life together. Whatever the facts were, the appearance must be maintained at all costs. This is not the type of system that would appeal to an Aspie and the feeling was mutual--Old Money folks tend to not like anyone who strays outside of their narrow definition of the norm.

As a caveat, I do have to admist that I once met an Old Money guy who was extremely interesting and eccentric. He collected pipe organs and had a Mighty Wurlitzer theater organ in his living room. The pipes took up two rooms in the house--I got to see them. He also collected daschunds and they swirled around my feet in waves as I came in the house to meet him. Oh, and cigar store Indians. And he had a pagoda built on his land. He was Old Money who didn't care about appearances. So, mentioning him brings a little balance to my characterization of Old Money. It also makes me smile as I remember the evening I spent with him and a couple friends of mine who were enamored of organ pipes.

The other system of politeness was that of Appalachian culture. Although my town was not in Appalachia, my town held a lot of tobacco warehouses (the whole town smelled like tobacco in the fall), not to mention a lot of the racing industry, and people came from Appalachia to work in these jobs.

Now, just as with the Old Money people, there is some complexity here. When I grew up, it was the problem of racism. White people of all walks of life tended to want to avoid "mixing" and they resisted desegregation and the later busing for desegregation. They shouldn't have worried--my high school was desegregated except that the white kids hung out in one hallway and the black kids in another. The high school was tracked and there were only two black kids in the highest track. There was only one African American who attended the last high school reunion I went to--20 years--I'm sure there was a reunion somewhere in town for African American students, but I had no idea where or when it was.

But the rules of Appalachian politeness made more sense to me. Hospitality is very important in that culture--and if you are the host, your job is to make your guests feel comfortable and happy. This means feeding them until they are about to bust! If you are a guest, this means doing your best to let your host know you are appreciative and trying not to be a pain in the neck for your host. This means eating until you never want to see food again!

In all seriousness, the significance of hospitality can be seen in an event that happened to me. My family often drove from Kentucky to Virginia to see friends of my parents. At that time, I-64 had not been completed, so there was a part of the trip that involved twisty turny roads through the mountains. I was the kind of kid that got carsick and this was one of the many times when I lost it.

My mom pulled over on the side of the road (I think my mom was driving and my dad may have stayed behind in KY for some reason) and up the hill, off the road was a small house. The woman who lived in the house put me on her couch--an old car seat. It felt so good to lay there on something that was not moving. The woman didn't have running water, but she got water from a pump outside and she helped my mom clean up after me. This lady did not know us and she could easily have ignored us. It's no fun cleaning up after a smelly, vomity kid but she did. What a blessing this woman was to me when I was feeling so bad. I have never forgotten her, even after forty years.


I really like the idea of politeness based on a real concern for other people. I like knowing that if I follow the rules for politeness ("please," "thank you," "I appreciate...," etc.) that I have a very good chance of communicating my concern for the well-being of others. I am happy to make sacrifices for the good of others, and I like knowing a system of rules that helps me to work towards my values.