From Sybil Bruncheon's "A Few Of My Favorite Things!"...

Did I ever show you my child's camping set?... when I was little, my extraordinary Grandmother insisted that if I was to be sent away for the Summer (Camp Goomy-ma-Goochie... in the Catskills! Do you know it?) that I was to maintain "the sophisticated and civilized niceties that we had been raised in"... her words exactly. She had this special camping set made for me in sterling silver; yes, that's the traditional Army tray, sterling fork and spoon in Georg Jensen "Pyramid", and a sterling salt and pepper set in cobalt glass with a little "Pyramid" salt spoon. And no! There's no knife... apparently I had threatened some child who claimed that the whole thing was only silver-plate! SILVER-PLATE! Me! Can you imagine??... with MY grandmother! I kicked HIS ass...

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Sybil Bruncheon's "I Know I'm Older Than Dirt, But..."

As you get older, do various things just stick in your craw?? They do for me! Here are a couple of mine, and I invite you to post some of your own too...

1) People who insist on clapping during a conversation at the next table to emphasize their agreement or amusement at the idiot-story they're sharing! This is also often accompanied by foot-stomping and table-top banging!!! Also, laughing or rather "BLAT-laughing" as a conversational statement... no one has said anything funny, but they insist on laughing as if to say, "Oh, I so agree!". HA-HAA-HAAAAA!!!!!... as a comma. And then the ultimate, usually perpetrated by a bevy of "Karens" or pubescent girls; deafening shrieking as a greeting in a very public place; the café, the mall, the lobby of a building, a subway car, a funeral!.... AAAAAAEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIAAAAAHHHHHH! So everyone around can experience, "HEYYYYY! LOOK AT ME AND MY GANG OF MORONS! WE'RE SO HAPPY TO BE THE CENTER OF YOUR UNIVERSE!"....

I know I'm older than dirt, but... ok, post your own...

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Sybil Bruncheon's 31 Days of Halloween... Manners Are Nice #15...

Boys and Girls, if you're invited over to a friend's house for Halloween refreshments, always remember to hold your saucer in one hand while you drink from your cup held in the other. It will prevent drips that might soil fine upholstery or a nice table doily or a lady's dress. And of course, never drink from your hand... or slurp... or um... lick a plate... or... whatever...

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Just My Opinion... BUT!"... Bad Table Manners! A deal breaker???

Darlings, Aunt Alicia in GIGI (1958) may have been right when she said, "Bad table manners, my dear Gigi, have broken up more households than infidelity."

Have you ever gone on a first date and been shocked over dinner? Or embarrassed to introduce your luncheon pal to your Mother? Or stunned at your boss' behavior over a morning coffee? Well, here are just twelve of the many, many table-manner DON'Ts that are deal-breakers for many people... sort of our Dirty Dozen of Dining!

1) Chewing with your mouth open! The truth of the matter is that no one needs to see time-lapse photography of each mouthful as you chomp away. We're quite sure it's all being broken down quite adequately behind your CLOSED lips. This also keeps any of it from falling out on the paisley necktie your grandma gave you commemorating the Beatles 10th anniversary of "We're So Sorry, Uncle Albert!"... And of course, it precludes you talking elaborately with your mouth full too...

2) Speaking of talking, the invention of the cell phone has resulted in vast portions of the population no longer speaking to dinner companions... or even looking at them. Indeed, with the entire workforce sitting in cubicles, there's much to be said for building all future restaurants with single-seat dining boxes. A "four-top"?!?... Why bother? Cell phone use is particularly annoying for the unfortunate diners who actually go out to dinner to visit and chat with a companion... and how poignant, actually tragic is it to see a child at a table with parents blabbing or texting away without so much as a smile to their young?... unless of course the toddler has already been swallowed into the same blank cult with his own cell phone!... a gift for his first birthday!

3) Smoking at the dinner table was finally outlawed in restaurants, but only indoors. There are still open-air places where people can get away with it... or try to. Simply put, it's disgusting, especially if other non-smokers are trying to enjoy their food without the flavorful additions of Marlborough or Virginia Slims. Excuse yourself, and go someplace DOWN-wind of everyone who's decided to preserve their poor hardworking lungs! And even if you're out with a bunch of smoking diners, never, ever stub a cigarette out in a dinner plate when you're finished. It's an appalling insult to your host and the cook.

4) Along those same lines, I can't tell you the number of people, rich and "cultured" ones as well, who casually drop their napkins over the food on their plate when they're done. Literally blanketing that Bœuf Bourguignon with a fine linen napkin and walking away as it soaks into the red wine sauce... I especially like it when they take the time to fold the napkin before they do it... as opposed to just crumpling it up in a wad... and then, KER-PLOP. Unless you really mean to thoroughly insult your host, the cook, or the entire restaurant because you absolutely hated the meal, never, EVER do anything to any napkin! No crumpling. No sauce. Nope! When you're finished, simply fold your napkin neatly and place it beside the plate. BESIDE THE PLATE! Done, and done!

5) Silverware; Ok, presumably, you're not a 4 year-old at the beach with a sand pail and shovel!... nor are you Jack the Ripper about to disembowel your dinner date... or are YOU? Your fork and knife are placed where they are to stay; Fork on the left, knife on the right! Pick your fork up in your left hand, and there it stays! You can use it to scoop or if you roll it over, to pierce. And your knife is in your right hand to cut, or to scoop food onto your fork (still in your left hand!) No need to switch hands and utensils, and PLEASE! Check Youtube videos or enroll in an etiquette school to see how to HOLD forks and knives! Again, they're not gardening tools! You don't hold them in a closed fist as if you're in the mess-hall of a penitentiary. Children's little hands may be clumsy with silverware, but grownups (and I mean 10 year-olds and older!) should be able to manage this simple manual task!

6) Hands; Yes, there are some cultures that use their hands to eat without the benefit of any utensils at all. But in the West, we still rely on silverware, (and in the East, there's the chopstick). From Seattle to St. Tropez, the only foods you need to pick up in your hands are breads (dinner rolls, donuts, peanut butter sandwiches), vegetables (carrot and celery sticks, French fries, edamame beans), and treats (chips, pretzels, expensive chocolates)... most everything else is too wet, juicy, and messy to eat with your fingers... unless you're home alone in the bath tub gorging by candle light! Don't eat with your hands in public, and don't lick your fingers!

7) Never "noodle"! Slurping up spaghetti or even noodles in chicken soup is wrong! JUST PLAIN WRONG! You're not an Electrolux vacuum cleaner, and no one wants to see it or HEAR that sound!... and speaking of that sound! What's with slurping? Is it a cultural thing? Why does Streisand do it in THE WAY WE WERE (1974)? It's grotesque. Imagine if every table in a restaurant was doing it... or all the guests at a royal banquet in Buckingham Palace!... or all the mourners at a funeral luncheon for Aunt Harriet!! Slurp! Slurp!! SLUUUUURP!!! Really!... and that goes for ANY noisy eating what-so-ever! Except for the unavoidable crunch of crisp foods, ideally, eating should be silent! Conversation should be unpunctuated by anything else!

8) Double-Dipping! Back to communal food… Case-in-point; Chips and dip! What are you thinking when you scoop a chip into a bowl of guacamole, bite half of it, and then scoop again with the same chip… or carrot stick, or whatever! Either swallow the entire item you’ve scooped… or break a bite-sized piece off before you scoop it into the dip. Your saliva, your sticky fingers, indeed, any part of your body and its bodily fluids do NOT need to be in circulation at dinner. I know, it doesn’t seem fair in this me-first political climate, but that’s just the way it is, Karen!

9) Never eat out of a serving dish. Famous narcissists like Roy Cohn use to do this at dinner parties. Right out of serving dishes at high-class dinner parties on Fifth Avenue! And people would look down in their laps, cough nervously, and try to ignore it because… well, because he was Roy Cohn and a profoundly dangerous thug in New York’s social life. When he wasn’t in someone’s home, and was out in NYC’s fabulous restaurants, he would actually eat off other people’s plates. I’ve had family members who did this, and, when confronted, being narcissists, they either chuckled merrily or acted hurt and imposed upon… Unless you’re home with family (and enablers at that!) never presume to put your hands into other people’s food… unless invited! Period!

10) Never be rude to restaurant employees. Even if they’ve been rude first… Yes, you’re paying money, and yes, you DO deserve to have a lovely evening!... BUT. If you’ve never had a food service job, you have no idea how appalling and contemptible the dining public can be on their 2 hour Saturday night outing with a little liquor and all the sad bourgeoisie pretensions of having a “staff” at their disposal! The average Joe isn’t a Vanderbilt, a Morgan, or even a Kennedy. Having never had servants, Joe doesn’t realize that eating in a restaurant in Buttpoke, Arkansas doesn’t mean he should order everyone around in a Thurston Howell III lock-jaw! Just as most waiters learn to “kill the customer with kindness” to get the best possible tips, customers should learn to “kill the staff with kindness” to get the best possible service (and a possible extra glass of wine or a dessert!). Always look the waiter in the eye when you’re ordering. Don’t look all over the room while you’re talking to them! Would you do that to your boss, your spouse, your MOM? And try using the waiter’s name when you ask them for more water, coffee, a slice of lemon! Using a person’s name in conversation is one of the basic and most effective life-lessons in the general adventure of living! Please and Thank-you are great dining tools too! And don’t get me started on tipping. If you can’t afford to tip, you can’t afford to go to a restaurant, or indeed get a coffee at Starbuck’s!... and you know who you are.

11) Bodily functions!... need I say more? No, really! Need I say more? No one is interested in you blowing your nose or picking it, drilling into your ear, or trying to dislodge food from your teeth at the table! It’s a short, slippery step to belching, farting… and if we’re going to allow that, why don’t we just take a dump at the table? Excuse yourself to a restroom for ALL and ANY of it… and by the way, cover your wide-open yawns, and certainly do them silently, behind your napkin!

12) Even when you’re home alone… and on the phone! Do you really need to eat into the ear of your caller? Maybe you don’t mind folks chewing and chomping into your ear during a phone chat, but some folks consider it really déclassé. Above and beyond the sound being like fingernails-on-a-blackboard for some people, it also might symbolize something else for them too… You might think it’s a sign of familiarity and intimacy, but some people consider it dismissive and insulting, as if you’re just fitting them into your busy schedule. Similar to using the toilet while you were talking to them on the phone.

These twelve are just a few of the many egregious Table-Manner Related Dining DON’Ts that have become de rigueur in this culturally bankrupt world we live in today! Feel free to contribute your OWN pet peeves. I may have to do another Dirty Dozen list!

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Manners Are Nice" #39...

… Billy Jepner liked watching television with his family. His family was lucky to have one of the first TVs in their neighborhood, and the shows that came on were all very interesting! Some were funny, some were scary, some were about the world and grown-ups, and some were games where people could win money or nice prizes like washing machines, fur coats, or a lifetime supply of grape jelly. Billy's father was in the air force and could only come home for a couple of days every month, so his visits were very special. When his daddy came home, Billy and his two sisters were expected to be very polite and not to interrupt the adults while they talked.... especially about how the air force had told Billy's daddy about building the entire house under the back yard. Billy and his sisters missed looking out of windows, but they were very good at climbing down the ladder in the special hole, and they knew that living in their cave-house meant that they should try to be a little more quiet during meal time and television time. But they could throw a ball as hard as they wanted now... even against the cement walls... in the dark.

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Sybil Bruncheon’s "Manners Are Nice #34"… Penny Sanders - A Charming Tale at 30,000 feet...

Penny Sanders was voted “Most Eager Girl” in Whitmer High School on Toledo. She had joined so many clubs, had been first alto sax in both the school orchestra and the marching band, had been a cheerleader and on the student council every year, and was the head of the yearbook committee, the newspaper, and the prom decorating team. Cotillions, parade floats, holiday displays, and the school landscaping project all depended on Penny’s presence, opinions, and hands-on labor. She was so busy with all of her activities that there was never any time to really date boys… or even interact with them other than on committees over donuts and hot chocolate… and perhaps that had been convenient.

Though sweetly pretty in a wholesome way, she never could (nor would want to!) compete with her friend Giselle Pomerou. Giselle was tall, blonde, and extremely curvaceous, “like a movie star” Penny would always brag to her friends. When she entered a room, all eyes would go right to her; some with envy, some with admiration, and some with open desire, even lurid longing, poorly disguised. Giselle was the true meaning of “statuesque” and so stylish too; she could wear the simplest cocoa brown knit dress and again look “like a movie star”. Penny would study Giselle’s clothes carefully… was it the bias cut and the “hand” of the fabric, the scoop neckline and casually rolled up sleeves, the fit and flair silhouette, or the hemline, just low enough to brush her perfect knees but high enough to let them peek as she walked down the aisle at graduation. It was a simple brown dress (with a Peter Pan collar no-less!) and now here she was wearing that same dress again five years later as she walked down the aisle to first-class while she and Penny took a reunion flight to Paris. If anything, Giselle had grown into a breathtaking beauty over the interval since high school and then college, co-majoring in fashion design and journalism. And here she was with her old pal, Penny, who had co-majored in political science and journalism, and even fit a masters degree in the few years too. They had kept in touch, and decided that they should take a vacation together and splurge!…what better spot than Paris, and in the Spring. They both had “connections” and could see the new couture collections and even afford to go shopping… within reason.

When they met at the Idlewild airport with their luggage, Giselle from Chicago with her Louis Vuitton and Penny from Greenwich Village with her grandmother’s hand-me-down American Tourister, the joyous hugs and shrieks of delight echoed through the waiting area of gate 14 for Panam flight 108. Both girls had been to Paris before, but separately, and under different circumstances. And once Giselle had stepped back to give Penny a good look up and down, she shook her head sadly but smiling. “Oh, Penny! That dress! That collar! Darling, we have GOT to buy you some new clothes when we get to Paris! Good Heavens, you’re out of school now! You’ve got to dress for your success! And you ARE a success now!”

Penny blushed deeply, and was mortified, but when she looked at herself in the reflection of one of the windows, she saw as if for the first time how awkward she was… and how awkward she had probably always been. Her black dress was rendered ridiculous by that oversized collar, pointed white triangles accented by chrome yellow trim nearly as wide as her shoulders and framing her face like a clown. Even though the fit was perfect over her still petite figure, she looked like a clown! A CLOWN!..and all she could see was that ridiculous collar and her face floating in the middle of it like a circus poster. Giselle could see the hurt in her eyes and quickly took her back into her arms with a hearty laugh and a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t despair, Penny, my girl! We’ll come back to New York with you looking like a magazine cover!”, and somehow, Penny knew Giselle could do it too.

And now, here they were, sitting in luxurious first class; Giselle, stylish as a magazine cover in her five year old brown knit and Penny in her clown-dress that she had just bought two days before for this special occasion…ah well. The girls talked and talked, sharing stories that they had only hinted at in long distance phone conversations (too expensive and only on holidays!) or in letters (originally weekly, but increasingly inconvenient, and finally only sporadic!). They laughed and cried and laughed again while crying as they flew high over the Atlantic into the evening sky. Dinner was served, and, being first class on Panam, the food was delectable. As course after course was offered, they both chuckled at what all those calories might do to their girlish figures. But then there was another round of compliments; to Giselle on her stellar finesse and statuesque beauty, and to Penny on her petite figure, sharp and compact like a sparrow.

It was at that exact moment when the strange thing happened. Penny was holding up her hands noting how tiny they were. She could wear her grandmother’s rings with no problem at all… and she happened to look over at the stewardess as she served the coffee and French pastries. She was handling the cups and saucers, the plates and silverware so gracefully… but her hands! HER HANDS! They were… huge! And huge like a man’s hands! “Look at them”, she thought. “Giselle! LOOK AT THE STEWARDESS’ HANDS!”… she was almost frightened! NO! She WAS frightened. TERRIFIED! The hands were not only big and masculine. They were rough and weathered and… wrong. Bad hands. Hands that might do bad things. But Penny had been raised to have good manners. It would be so impolite to say anything…even to whisper it to Giselle when the stewardess had passed. Penny was never rude. Ever. But she raked her eyes up and down the stewardess’ perfect hair and make-up, her lovely smiling face, her perfectly tailored uniform and cap, and her gorgeous figure and those long glorious legs. But the hands! She couldn’t hear the words coming out of that smiling face offering her cream and sugar, the Napoleon or the éclair. All the words were rumbling echoes, and she thought she might faint… or be sick, or both. “My manners”, she thought. “My manners! Am I staring? I shouldn’t stare because that’s not polite!” Finally she smiled wanly and mumbled a thank-you for what ever the last choice she had been offered. Giselle looked over, puzzled but smiling, and chuckled a simple tossed-off apology to the stewardess saying that Penny wasn’t used to flying and was a little disoriented. Both of the women chatted and laughed, again undecipherable to Penny in the echoing roar and rumble, and, as Giselle reached for her own coffee… the hands! NO! THE HANDS!... huge and horrifying… even more terrifying than before!… And they were GISELLE’S HANDS! Giselle had man-hands too! Bad, man’s hands! That might do anything… and maybe HAD!... What was happening? What was happening?!?... “But it’s not polite to scream! I mustn’t scream!”…

…and it was at that point that Penny, poor sweet, sparrow-like Penny Sanders looked down the aisle of her Paris-bound Panam jet, and saw the handsome man, clean-cut and smoking his cigarette,  his perfect suit over his knife-slim figure, calmly talking about her, and the plane, and the fact that it wouldn’t be going to Paris after all. That it was never going to Paris to begin with… that it was going to a place… called… the Twilight Zone.

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