deviousways

The other day, at my local library, I saw a little girl approaching the heavy glass front door. Now, this door is one of those -push-or-pull-with-all-your-might-contraptions, you know the kind where you push when you're supposed to pull, and vice versa. I knew that little girl wouldn't be able to budge it, so I moved forward and held it open for her. And right behind her, breezed in her mom, dressed in casual pants and shirt and probably in her early 30s. And probably at least five years younger than me. So there I am standing there holding the door open, and there's the young mom, walking in happily, with not so much as by your leave. As if I wasn't there at all. I felt like a doorknob. Whatever happened to little courtesies? If a stranger opened the door for me, let alone for my child, I would thank that person. But no, not this young mom. So now, that little girl will grow up thinking it's fine to not say "thank you" when someone does something for he...