And Then There Were the 40 Commandments

So, when you grow up in the South, you learn lots of rules. With proper respect to my unmet but delightful friends, here is a minor list.

Thou shall not ever: embarrass thy parents in public, act in an unladylike manner, be rude, drink the last of the Pepsi (it always belonged to dad), use profanity or poor grammar (as they were equivalent), call boys, call adults by their first names or rush a conversation.

You must always: take fresh baked goods to new neighbors, take proper phone messages, say please and thank you, say sir and mam, be seen and not heard, wear clean underwear, handwrite thank you notes, take a hostess gift, graciously receive gifts and feign delight no matter how tacky they were, show great respect for your elders or betters.

Now, these are not necessarily bad rules. They actually make society flow a bit more smoothly than it otherwise might, including my work life. You would be amazed at how many people in a professional setting seem never to have mastered the basic skills of “plays well with others”, “shares toys”, “doesn’t hit others” and “puts away crayons”, but I digress.

However, when the rules are elevated to the same level as the 10 commandments, one might have a tendency to reject all the rules. (Well, pretty much all the rules – the fear of perhaps having to go the hospital after your auto accident in less than fresh underwear never leaves some….)

Do you know how much you can mess up your life if you’re perpetually angry, don’t feel like God really wants you AND you throw out all the rules?