Be good.

It's been a while since I did a book post on a Wednesday, but don't get all happy -- I am not prepared with time or commitment to bring back the Humpback Writers feature. That, of course, never involved writers with hunched backs, but ran on Hump Day, and was and remains the worst name for a book feature online. So no, I'm not doing that right now.

Nevertheless, it is Wednesday, and here's a book. 

The Good Citizen's Handbook: A Guide to Proper Behavior, compiled by Jennifer McKnight-Trontz and published in 2001, is a look back at handbooks from the 1930s to the 1960s, designed to help Americans live healthy, worthy, happy lives. 

The pages inside are not altered from the original handbooks, except for the addition of headers ("A Good Citizen..."). To the credit of the writer and publisher, the book's endnotes have citations for all of the originals, printed in the smallest type you ever saw in your life. 

So let's get to it: What ought a citizen do in order to be a Good Citizen? 

All right! But surely there's more to it than that?

Hmm. Seems a bit familiar, yes? Like everything being shouted at the citizenry in 2020? Not that it's bad advice for avoiding being sick, but it was also our Civic Duty to ruin our lives to save them in 2020. So is this old pamphlet really goofy and out of touch, when it was exactly what we saw four years ago, just with updated clothing on the models?

In fact, while the book looks like it's intended to poke fun at the earnestness and innocence of the past (à la Nick and Nite's "How to Be Swell"), it can't help but shine a light on the aspirations of an America that wanted to be better and safer for all its citizens. 

Better dressed, too. 

I like the "Clean Play" page. The rules of good sportsmanship are the same as they always were. But the last professional sportsman to follow them that I know of was Barry Sanders, who didn't show off or brag when he scored his many touchdowns and show up the other team. These days we tell kids in school not to be dickweeds, but then we behave like dickweeds ourselves everywhere else. More is caught than taught.

Happiness through purpose, friendship, communication, exercise, and faith. This is the precise advice we still from mental health professionals, except that now the “spiritual values” one is always (and I mean always, 100% of the time) illustrated by photo of a young woman meditating in the lotus position.

This book may have been compiled to chuckle at the innocence of the past, but what sane person would not prefer to live in a society where people really do want to strengthen the republic, help one another, and bolster goodwill? "Today good citizenship means less to us," writes McKnight-Trontz in the introduction. "We worry far more about our demons than our duties.... We belong to fewer civic groups, vote less, and spend far more time doing things ourselves, for ourselves. No wonder it feels like everything is going to Hell." And that was written before the invention of the smartphone! 

Of course, the America of the 1930s through the 1960s had all the problems we can imagine -- tragic family trauma, addiction, racism, poverty, corruption, misogyny, war, whatever else you want to add. Despite that it was a high-trust society, especially compared to the current moment. Two-tiered justice systems, handwave treatment of violent criminals, election theft, tribalism, stores locking up goods, institutions run by fools chosen for the shallowest reasons, children being miseducated if educated at all -- this is all part of our new low-trust society. The Good Citizen's Handbook is a window to the past, not as it was but as those living then wished it could be. We don't even have that now. Whenever I see art depicting a hopeful future now it shows a multiculti group of young people, no children or oldsters, dressed like bums, doing no work, and if a white male is in it, he's probably dressed like a woman or a unicorn. The future is dumb.

Sadly, the handbook is out of print, although as I write this McKnight-Trontz has another Chronicle Books title out: How to Be Popular. Which I know I could use. Perhaps then I could learn How to Be Swell. Nick at Nite didn't really help that much. 

Lookin' good!

Today is National Compliment Day! And let me say that you are awesome! And such good taste, too! Not just the fabu way you dress, but the fact that you alight on this sensational blog for all your bloggy needs. What can I say? We all just think you're the bee's knees, my friend.

Yes, this is one of those non-holiday holidays that populate the calendars of teachers and office-party planners in the HR department with too much time on their hands. Aren't you smart to figure that out!

Various calendar-centric Web sites tell us that National Compliment Day was created in 1998 by two New Hampshire women, Debbie Hoffman and Kathy Chamberlain, to encourage positive, upbeat communications with our fellow human beings. Perhaps, since they lived in New England, they saw the need for warmth.

Of course, there are some activities suggested to go along with this day.

Holiday Insights suggests this one:

1. Gather in a circle.
2. Look at the person to your left.
3. Find a compliment for that person.
4. Write the compliment on a piece of paper and who it is for.
5. Gather the notes and post on a board.
6. All players match each of the compliments to a player. 
7. The person with the most correct matches wins.

And National Day Calendar has this similar one:

1. On a piece a paper, have each student write down or draw the best compliment they ever received.
2. Have them describe how the compliment made them feel. 
3. With that feeling in mind, challenge them to think of something positive about each of their classmates. 
4. Then allow each student to stand and receive a compliment from another student in the room. 

Hmm.

I think it's great to be nice and all, and I would love to pass along some of the compliments I got, if I ever got any. Certainly I never got any in school. My entire education was based in New York City, where no day is Compliment Day but any day could be Backhanded Compliment Day.

• "Hey, Cheech, you lose weight? You don't look so fat today."
• "That's some dancing you did. I was sure you was gonna fart."
• "You came up with that? Who would have thought a moron like you could do such a thing?"
• "Good haircut. It kinda hides that weird and deformed nose you got."
• "That guy you're datin' looks interesting, Jess. I heard they call him Cro, like Cro Magnon."
• "Yo. Nice face."

Don't underestimate the value of backhanded compliments. They prepare you in life for... well, more abuse, I guess.

Fred's Pet Rescue!

Move over, The Dodo -- here comes The Fredfred!

All right, well, maybe it wasn't quite as dramatic as all that, but it was considered a good deed, anyway.

Tuesday night I was walking Nipper around the neighborhood when he stopped and looked back. Behind us was a golden retriever, smiling. I don't know how long he'd been trailing us, but there he was.

He was all by himself, but he had a collar on, so I thought be might be one of the dogs at the corner we had just passed. The guys did the usual sniff & greet and then mixed it up with some Puppy UFC -- hard on me, since my dog lunges like a puma and weighs almost as much. Plus, we were right in the middle of the street. It's not a busy street, but there's no sidewalk. So I had to try to wrestle them to the lawn nearby, while trying to remember if I'd seen that dog before. And no, I had not.

He was very friendly, though, so I pulled him in to give him a pat and have a look at his tags. The owner had put his name on it, and a phone number, and even his home address -- and it was clear across town, in an old cottage community, four miles away! Could he have gotten that lost? He did have a bunch of burs stuck on his coat, which I first thought were ticks.

I alerted the Mrs. to the situation, then dialed the number. I was informed by the Verizon recorded lady that the owner of that line was not available and thanked and hung up on.

Now I'm thinking this sweet puppy is owned by some crackhead who didn't pay his phone bill and probably doesn't even know his dog is missing.

My wife came to meet us with another leash, and we led the little guy and our guy to the house. She suggested we call our vet, have the dog scanned for a chip -- if the dog had one it might have updated information. The vet's office was still open for half an hour, so I called and asked if we could bring the stranger in; they said okay. So I loaded him into the car and off we went. (He was not shy about jumping into a strange SUV.)

While I was stuck at a light I had the thought -- maybe there's just a problem with the guy's phone? So I texted the number, asking if he had a dog.

He called me within a minute.

As it turned out, my call couldn't get to him because he was clear across the country. His elderly parents were dogsitting the pup in their home, not two hundred feet from where I found him. He gave me their address and called his folks while I turned the car around.

His mom was grateful. Turns out they were playing in the yard with Golden Boy when he spotted a deer and ran after it into the woods. They'd been stomping through the underbrush looking for him since; meanwhile he'd popped out on the street and found me and Nipper.

So all's well that ends well. It could definitely have gone the other way, since when we found the dog he'd crossed a street with a blind curve frequented by idiot drivers.

I'm glad to have brought the pup home, and I hope the parents were able to think of a way to keep him there until their son returned.

It's always nice to be able to do someone a favor. All the same, I'm glad we didn't have to hold on to the little guy ourselves. Two dogs is more than enough to handle here. I am happy to do a favor, but not that big a favor!

Grumpiest Place in America.

So Reader's Digest, your mom's favorite magazine, is running its second-annual competition to find the Nicest Place in America.

Well, that's nice, I guess.

Of course, it's always a relative thing. We know of small towns with the reputation of being friendly to everyone just like themselves and only like themselves -- heck, Hollywood tells us that every town in the south and middle of America is like that, except for a few outposts of civilization like Austin and Ann Arbor.

And we know that in places like Austin ("Keep Austin Weird"), the scene is very welcoming to those who are weird. Normies, Herberts, Rednecks, MAGA Types, Breeders, Christianists, and Squares need not apply. Otherwise, you can think whatever you like.

So if RD can find places where everybody is nice to everybody, more power to them. I doubt my home state of New York is providing a fertile hunting ground.

Now, if they were looking for the Grumpiest Place in America, we probably would be able to help. From the tip of Chautauqua County in the west to St. Lawrence County in the north, from Montauk in the east to li'l Staten Island in the south, our state is loaded with grouches. Here's my entry from Averageville, New York, as it could be used just about anywhere:

AVERAGEVILLE, NEW YORK: MAD ABOUT BEING MAD

"Never met such miserable people in my life," is how pizzeria sausage manager Tad Masseingale describes his adopted hometown of Averageville, New York, located in Glurch County on the Closed Factory River. "Everyone just stumbles along scowling. I love it."

"The people of Averageville pretty much just mind their own business," says town councilor Jeanie Swayback, "unless they see a really good opportunity to gossip. Assassination of character is one of our major pastimes."

Every day the passersby who bother to leave their run-down houses can be seen sneering along the empty shops downtown, not waving at familiar faces or anyone else. Down at Ptomaine House, a popular greasy spoon diner, there is no conversation except for comments about the lack of cleanliness in the tableware. 

It rains a lot in Averageville, one reason for the town's mood -- and for the town's motto: "Let a Snarl Be Your Umbrella." When a flood hit the town in 2006, no one helped anyone else. When a flood hit the town in 2011, it was every man for himself. When a flood hit the town in 2017, then doubled back and hit the town again, which then sparked off a round of wildfires, people holed up and ignored the sounds of distress around them. "Damn jerks," is how Pastor Harvey Tagg describes the community before slamming the door of the Helpful Shepherd Church in our faces.

"I remember when mean ol' Jack Klooperman got sick, complainin' and cursin' all the time, and then finally died," says professional wheedler Ken Cifer, the town's all-purpose bonehead. "You shoulda seen everyone lined up at the funeral home, impatiently waiting their turn to stick him with pins to make sure he was finally dead."

Crime is a problem in Averageville, because no one bothers to respond to calls for help. Chief of police Alice Snordd could not be reached, as she was said to be asleep at her desk. 

But some people think that Averageville might be starting to get a little nicer. Local wastrel Enrico Smoot explains: "Just the other day the guy next door told me he would be willing to spit on me if I was on fire. That's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me, in this town."

Others think that the character of Averageville will never change. "No matter what, we just hate everyone in this town," says Swayback, "and everyone who comes into town. Which reminds me: Are you leaving soon?"

Stop being nice! (Pedestrian edition.)

Last year I took a day to complain about the menace of people being nice on the road, how people trying to wave you through when they have the right of way leads to confusion and possibly accidents. 

Today I'm complaining about being nice to pedestrians on the road. You know the situation. Granny is crossing the street, or perhaps a parking lot. Here she is with her walker, heading for the off-track betting parlor and then the saloon. 

The driver in the purple car decides to be gallant and stop traffic while she creeps along the road. The guy in the red car, seeing this, is now sore. The old lady is not too happy either, because she feels obliged to hustle at top speed, which in her case is approximately one-eighth mph. Had the guy in the purple car just gone on his way, she'd have her way clear to make what is, actually, not a legal crossing. 

What does the law say? In New York, my home state (pity me), the DMV tells us "Pedestrians and skateboarders who are legally crossing the road or street at marked or unmarked crossings, like an intersection, always have the right-of-way." But the old lady is not on a marked crossing and this is not a corner or intersection. It is not a stretch to just say that this is an illegal crossing. In New York, pedestrians will tell you that pedestrians always have the right of way. It's safer to think that way, since they're not protected by a vehicle around them, but it's not true everywhere. It depends where you are. 

The National Conference of State Legislatures summarizes the pedestrian laws across the nation here, and you can see the differences in rules. In Minnesota, for example, the guy working the shoe leather has the right of way no matter where or when he appears ("in any portion of the roadway") and drivers must stop, which makes it sound like if a drunk wanders onto the I-94 where everyone's doing 65, they all have to come to a screeching halt instantly. Knowing Minnesota, that is entirely possible. In other states drivers have to stop only if the pedestrian is in their lane. In three more, that applies to any pedestrian in the same side of the road or approaching that side. Still other states, including New York, don't demand that drivers stop but that they yield to a pedestrian in any portion of the roadway; others say only the same half or the same lane, and so on. If you want to go dancing in traffic with legal impunity, or want to try running someone over and getting away with it, do your research first. 

Of course, no matter what the law says, the problem with being a pedestrian is that the guy coming from the other direction may not be so aware of your presence, or so nice. 

Grandma got run over by a Tesla.

But that isn't my issue here. My main complaint about the whole thing is this: If I'm standing on the sidewalk or the side of a parking lot, waiting to cross, and you're tooling along in your car, just keep tooling. Don't stop and wave me by. I would rather wait the one second for you to go past than have to trot across with you watching every move of my fat ass all the way across. Let's not make this anymore unpleasant than it has to be. Just go and I'll wait until it's clear. 

One last NCSL note: When Granny is on her way back after getting hammered, be aware that "at least 27 states mandate drivers use necessary precaution if they observe an obviously intoxicated or incapacitated pedestrian." So don't think you're getting away with it because she's polluted.

Stop being nice!

Is this my week to complain about First World problems? Yeah, but the week's almost over.

Today my kvetch concerns this strong suggestion: Stop Being Nice on the Roads!

You gasp (thanks for playing along at home) and say, "But Fred! Everyone, especially in New York, where your hovel is, is too mean on the roads! Who are these nice people of whom you speak?"

Well, we do have some, and when it comes to intersections, they have to knock off all that niceness.

I'm thinking of this common situation:

You're at the front of the line at the red light, planning to make a left turn. That's you below in the blue car. (Slick wheels, BTW.) The woman (it's often a woman) in the yellow car wants to go straight, and you know that by the rules of the road, she has the right of way. There are cars lined up behind you; they'll have to wait. There are cars lined up behind her; they're happy because they'll be on their way soon.

You're resigned, and so is the guy behind you; the guy behind him, not knowing you were turning left (couldn't see your directional) is peeved, mainly because he is afraid he'll miss the light. But scoring the emotis as Happy = 1, Meh = 2, and Mad = 3, this scenario is a 10, which for a traffic situation with 6 drivers is not too bad.

Now let the nice person in the yellow car start waving at you to let you go first, and what happens?

First off,  no one's moving. Why? You in the blue car were not expecting this stupid act of niceness, so you were prepared to wait. Maybe the sun is facing you, and you can't see the ding-dong waving at you very well. (It's always hard to estimate visibility for a driver in a car facing another direction.) The two cars behind her are pissed, because they expected to be off with the green. The two behind you are furious because you're supposed to turn and no one is moving. And you are at least Meh, because you don't know why the yellow car is sitting there when it should be going straight. By confounding your expectations, the yellow car has automatically added several seconds to this process. Only the driver of the yellow car is happy, because she thinks she's doing a good deed. Give her a moment and she'll be mad that you're not doing what she wants. And if you're me, you'll get mad because she's not doing what the law says she should.

Score: 15 and rising quickly. That's bad for a 6-driver scenario.

So, friends, stop being nice out there on the roads. Just know the rules and follow them, especially at intersections, where so many deadly accidents happen.

When we all know what we're supposed to do and do it -- which we all agree to when we apply for a driver's license -- we prevent a lot of problems. Fulfilling expectations IS nice.