Why I am an Angry Person

A few weeks ago I attended my daughter's graduation ceremony from Community College. It was a wonderful program with inspiring speakers, good music, and the promise of a better future for hundreds of graduates. As I watched my daughter cross that stage and take another step toward a life of independence and adventure, all I could think of was, “Why can’t those idiots behind me shut up?”

Don’t laugh, but in the last few years I have honestly tried to become a more tolerant person. I have attempted to overlook the blatantly obnoxious, oblivious, self-involved behavior of our current society. I have tried to make excuses for them, such as “they just don’t know any better,” or “it was the way they were raised,” or “someone must have dropped them on their head when they were kids.” I tried (hand on a Bible), I really, really tried.

But it’s gotten to the point that bad behavior is not just overwhelmingly prevalent, but has become accepted as a societal norm. We hear so many people talking about “Freedom,” that people think that means they can do anything they want. God Bless America! Home of the Free and the Rude!

I’ve ranted before about bad behavior in movies, but it’s pretty much everywhere now. You might expect bad behavior in a bar, or a ball game, and almost certainly at a family reunion, but I’ve noticed it rearing its ugly head at Church also. What used to be a place of absolute reverence and respect; is now a place where people chat during songs, during the sermon, and even during prayers.

When I was a kid, if I was bored, I drew quietly in a bulletin. If I got loud or misbehaved in any way, I was promptly taken outside and dealt with. Take my word for it, those hard wooden pews do not feel good after a spanking. I learned my lessons quickly.

Youth today don’t get spankings, and in general it seems that parent’s drop them at the door and don’t look their way again until they get in the car to go out to eat for Sunday lunch. I’ve noticed the youth in our church line up across a row and talk, laugh and pass notes throughout the entire service. They don’t even have the decency to sit on the back row like my peers did. They sit toward the front where everyone behind them can watch them misbehave. Everyone, I guess, except the parents (who are probably too caught up in their own conversations to go up and grab their kid by the earlobe and drag them out for some good old fashioned lessons in proper church behavior).

My girls know that I’m watching, and I’m proud of the fact that they also seem bothered by the bad actions of their fellow youth. Often they will come and sit with me and their mother on Sunday morning and when I asked them why they aren’t sitting with their friends, they have answered “they talk too much during the service.” It gives me a big Dad smile.

Another thing I’ve noticed in church lately is how many people do not take advantage of the nursery facilities. I don’t have a problem with that. In fact, I think kids should get used to being in the service and learning to be quiet and respectful. But (and there is almost always a “but”), parents need to use some common sense and have respect for others.

If you have small children, sit in the back and on the end of the pew. That way you can get up and step out quickly when they cry or act up. Don’t bring any toys that make noise or can be used as a horn, drum or hammer. These suggestions may seem too obvious, but apparently not. It happens on any given Sunday.

I’ve noticed that one mother brings books for her pre-school child, which I whole-heartedly agree is a good thing. I would not expect a child to sit still and listen to a sermon with multiple Old Testament references and themes based on eternal damnation (and to be perfectly honest, if I could bring a copy of Berenstain Bears to peruse during some of the drier sections of certain sermons, I’d be happier too). This particular mother though, doesn’t just bring her child books; she chooses to READ them to her during the service. I’m not talking about a onetime occurrence, but every Sunday morning. I’ve actually had to move where I sit (which is a major concession in a Baptist church, where seats are leased on a lifetime basis) because if I continued to sit near her and listen to her soft narration and turning of pages, I may have eventually lost my religion.

Of course, we are inundated with examples of bad behavior in media, and more often than not we see that behavior rewarded. How many reality shows do you see that follow a family who is respectful, loving, kind and generous? Between Jersey Shore, the plethora of “Real Housewives,” the Kardashians, the Teen/Dance Moms, the know-it-all cake boss/restaurant gurus, and any number of B-grade star wannabes who allow cameras to follow them around; we don’t have a lot of quality role models. Rude, loud, selfish, ignorant and greedy gets the attention these days.

All of this is a great reminder of something I have tried so very hard to ignore. I don’t like people. Not any of you reading this right now, of course, but those other people. We know who they are.

As we sat in the cramped seats of Thompson Boling Arena to watch Shelby graduate and listened to the hoots, hollers and air horn blasts coming from the large family of morons behind us, my lovely and much more tolerant wife leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, “Can we request to sit in the non-redneck section next time?”

Sadly there isn't a section to escape bad behavior.  Not anymore.

I am not exaggerating about this group, and if you do not believe me, you are welcome to ask my wife or any of our other family members who were present. The people behind us behaved like they were sitting in their back yard, drinking beer and waiting for the cock fight to start. I picture them arriving at the arena on a large flatbed truck or in an old yellow school bus (so old, I imagined, they had bought it from a church, which means it had been retired from service twice). They came there to honor “Billy,” whose name they screamed loudly and often throughout the entire ceremony. I later learned (and I swear this is true) that his name was “Billy Bob.” I can’t say that I was shocked.

I tried hard to ignore them, but considering that they raised their voices to be heard over the arena speaker system, I couldn’t help but hear most of their constant chatter. Apparently one of the three women sitting directly behind us was pregnant and would soon be giving birth, although based on appearances, it was difficult to tell which one it was. They talked about OB/GYN visits and the use of drugs during childbirth (they were all for it). Then the soon-to-be-mother, with incredible conviction, said “if it’s a boy, I’m pushing him back in until he comes out a girl.”

I wanted to turn around and educate her a little bit. “Hi, I’m not a doctor, but I used to watch ER all the time, and I just want you to know that it really doesn’t work that way.”

I wanted to turn around a lot that evening. I wanted to tell them shut up. I wanted to say, “There are other people who would like to hear what is going on and maybe even hear their loved ones name called out at graduation.” I wanted to say, “Did you ever think that Billy Bob might be humiliated that you’re up here acting like you’re at a tractor pull?”

I didn’t do any of these things, of course. I didn’t say anything to them. Fortunately, they did have a lull in their conversation when Shelby’s name was called, so we did hear it, or that might have been the proverbial straw that sent me to jail that night for assault. I was frustrated though, and it affected my enjoyment of the evening because I couldn’t just relax and be in the moment.

The situation left me wondering what is the right thing to do. How do you teach other people how to behave properly? I don’t think my asking them politely to “keep it down” would have worked. I got the impression that they would have kicked my seat and said “Move somewhere else if you don’t like it!” By implication, that left me with two choices: a) move somewhere else, or b) start liking it. I didn’t like either of those choices.

I was also afraid it could escalate in other ways.  These ladies had the look that if they had not been in a bar fight recently, that they at least knew every move in the WWF catalog, and although I was pretty sure Connie could handle one or maybe even two of them, three would have been just a little bit too much (plus, I'm fairly confident that the rest of the clan would have joined in the battle, including their feral looking children sitting behind them).

The other problem when confronting crazy, rude people is that their unbridled belief in their right to FREEDOM and doing whatever they want to the detriment of others could well extend to their personal right to bear (and use) arms. Not that all gun owners are crazy, rude people (and I know several gun owners who are polite, well-balanced citizens), but I can pretty much guarantee that if you have a guy named “Billy Bob” and at least two women with “America: Love It or Leave It” tattoos on their upper chest then there is probably a gun rack in the back truck window and a handgun in a purse.

My frustration with bad behavior only goes so far.