If I never again had to walk through someone’s cigarette smoke, who is lurking right outside the entrance of a store, I’d breathe easier.
If I never had to see anyone’s tattoos, on arms, legs or places strangers shouldn’t even see, unless they’re medical personnel, that would be fine.
If I never had to hear a baby scream or an older child throw a tantrum in a restaurant, book store or church service, then I’d smile more.
I quit smoking years ago so I’d no longer smell cigarette smoke. That hasn’t changed.
Remember when tattoos were private? In private places? Only career sailors or carnival workers had them. Those people were few and far between. Now people wear clothing so revealing we can’t miss them. And they seem to be everywhere. Both the people and the tattoos.
I know my children occasionally cried or carried on in public. Once Jim threw himself down on the floor of the grocery store because I wouldn’t buy him something he wanted. I stepped over him and kept on going. Faced with no audience, he hopped up and trailed after me. The boys didn’t go out to restaurants until they were old enough to behave themselves. If we couldn’t afford a sitter, we stayed home — or asked Dale’s grandmother to sit. Going out was special, not every day. Children were on their best behavior or they stayed home.
What if people still did some of those things? Would we all be more content? I’d have to find another subject for a blog.
