163

Common courtesy means that you must think of others beyond yourself.  Toddlers cannot do this.  When toddlers grow into small children, they gain this sense of other, but it is not permanent.  A sudden surge of hormones in the teenage years wipes away all thought of others.  Teenagers go back to toddlerhood, and it is a much tougher fight to regain this sense than it was to achieve the first time.  It is this difficulty that often stops many from finding common courtesy again.

You find these underdeveloped, self-absorbed adult teen/toddlers everywhere.  They are the ones who make appointments they don't keep.  They are the ones who throw garbage next to garbage cans.  They are the ones who tailgate.  They are the ones who promise over and over a task will be done, and never do it.

And it is the ones who re-achieved their evolution back to common courtesy who must suffer.

162

In the warm blackness of the evening, the street was oddly quiet.  Distantly, a car hummed, but the nearest few blocks were empty of vehicles, people, animals, and even wind.  It was still and motionless, like an abandoned movie set.

161

Cara was living inside of time, right down to the moment, which is much smaller than even a single second.  Most people live in tomorrows though that is an impossible illusion.  Cara preferred living right in the dirt.  In the dirt under her nails.  In the smudges in her fingerprint whorls.  In the molecules that were absorbed into her cells.

160

The fat family trundled down the sidewalk, hoodies up against the cold drizzle, phones out and texting.  They shuffled or waddled or stopped to holler, depending on his or her way.  The large-headed dog strained on the end of his rope and chain, choking himself and earning a holler from one of the hoodies.  One of the smaller waddlers got too far ahead and elicited another holler, slightly harsher than that used on the dog, "You asshole!  Get back here!  Forchrisssake."

159

The Quizzical Cat died with a smile on its face and only Helpsome James knew why.

158

"Cranberry Hills!" cried Grandpa, startling us all at the breakfast table.  "That's where I left it!"  Grandpa went back to eating, but Mom was to embarrassed to enjoy any more of her cereal.  I wasn't nearly so sensitive; to me, this is the way Grandpa always was.  He thought about things left undone and when he finally remembered, it bubbled up and out.  Saying things out loud has a way of making them more permanent; I understood this.  I did it myself, but I could usually control the outburst if I wasn't alone.

"What did you leave, Grandpa?"  Mom glared at me with the look that said, Don't encourage him, but I really wanted to know.  After all, whether Mom acknowledged it or not, Grandpa was the most interesting member of our family.

157

Dust clung to his clothes and in the lines on his face.  The air conditioning in the diner had been running full blast to combat the dry heat outside, but the stranger didn't seem to sweat.  As was usual, the diner's regulars turned to stare, not hiding their evaluation of the new man.  Plus for nodding, minus for heading to the restroom before sitting.  To Vera's mind, however, that was two plusses.  When the man returned, he looked fifteen years younger and five pounds lighter with his face and hands washed.  Vera poured him coffee, and he nodded his thanks, his eyes looking straight into hers.  It was Vera who had to pull away, and she felt an odd rush.  Normally, she might feel uncomfortable with that sort of attention, but not with this man.  Vera didn't know if that was a good, or a bad thing.