We had a delightful, busy weekend, exacerbating my usual posting tardiness. One Tree Hill played a fun gig Friday night at the No Longer Bound rehab center. We visited some gracious friends at their mountain home near Choestoe, and caught a Sunday afternoon AthFest concert where Bo was playing drums for a lively country band.
Several events of late have set me a-thinkin’ about what I would call “social conventions,” those behaviors we exhibit that are not the result of rule or regulation, but reflect cultural conventions. For example, even though I’m probably bigger than you, I wouldn’t just reach over and grab a meatball from your plate. If you should happen to tell a joke I have already heard (quite likely, by the way), I still laugh. There are probably hundreds of these behaviors, many of them bequeathed to us by our parents or teachers, and many others that we have picked up on our own by watching and listening.
Our overnight stay in the mountains had plenty of examples of social conventions. That’s one reason it was so pleasant. From our arrival, through dinner and an entertaining musical exchange, overnight and an awesome breakfast spread, we did a dance of civility and manners. Not so much manners in the Amy Vanderbilt sense (that’s unfamiliar territory for me), but simple courtesies of speech and action. We talked about our various children, about food, the joys of home repair, even international bathing habits, but not about politics, about which we probably have some points of disagreement. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement, a social convention.
Another example that may seem familiar is a couple we met recently who, over the years of their marriage, have acquired a nearly encyclopaedic knowledge of wine, beer, and spirits. They have toured the finest continental breweries, they know what distinguishes the best from the good, and what drink goes well with what food. I suppose I would describe their interest as culinary and anthropological; they enjoy these libations, never over-indulging. But their own accepted social conventions, in this case driven by seemingly unbreakable agreements, force them to completely conceal this aspect of their lives from other family members.
Science fiction plots often include the awkward meeting of two species who don’t share the same social conventions. Time travel also introduces its own forms of social convention, such as those described in this excerpt from Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe:
“One of the major problems encountered in time travel is not that of accidentally becoming your own father or mother. There is no problem involved in becoming your own father or mother that a broadminded and well-adjusted family can’t cope with. There is also no problem about changing the course of history – the course of history does not change because it all fits together like a jigsaw. All the important changes have happened before the things they were supposed to change and it all sorts itself out in the end.
The major problem is quite simply one of grammar, and the main work to consult in this matter is Dr Dan Streetmentioner’s Time Traveller’s Handbook of 1001 Tense Formations. It will tell you for instance how to describe something that was about to happen to you in the past before you avoided it by time-jumping forward two days in order to avoid it. The event will be described differently according to whether you are talking about it from the standpoint of your own natural time, from a time in the further future, or a time in the further past and is further complicated by the possibility of conducting conversations whilst you are actually travelling from one time to another with the intention of becoming your own father or mother.
Most readers get as far as the Future Semi-Conditionally Modified Subinverted Plagal Past Subjunctive Intentional before giving up: and in fact in later editions of the book all the pages beyond this point have been left blank to save on printing costs.”
Returning to present-day earth, I suppose the event that got me started thinking about social conventions was the recent decision of a friend of mine to change gender. As you will eventually figure out, such a decision is not entered into lightly. Nor is such a decision kept to ones’ self. The impact is broad, and profound. Decisions and discussions abound, ranging from the use of pronouns to the use of restrooms. I’m pretty sure everyone who is aware of this change has been driven to analyze their own beliefs, assumptions and social conventions about sex, sexuality, gender roles, dress, and all other aspects of interpersonal relationships.
A final example, way less sensational, was the impact of my own social conventions on a baked potato. I was dining at a residence with five other people. I served myself green beans and cantaloupe, the dishes of which were near me, and passed them on to the next person. I tonged some tossed salad into my bowl, and dressed it. A few minutes later later (thank goodness) someone passed me a baked potato. At this point, there was significant conversation in progress around the table. I looked at my plate, with its baked potato, green beans and cantaloupe, and over at my tossed salad. I looked at the other end of the table, at the cucumbers in vinegar (a personal favorite), the fried chicken, and especially the butter and sour cream. Adding up the facts, namely (1) I really already had plenty to eat, (2) conversation was actively underway, and (3) I didn’t want to appear self-centered by interrupting everyone else, I decided to let social convention reign, so I ate what I had, including a very plain baked potato.
Let the record show that this decision caused me no physical or emotional harm. In fact I’m convinced that this exercise of social convention might have actually been good for me, like building up a muscle.
I’m sure the next baked potato I encounter will prove my point. But you might want to keep an eye on your meatballs.