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September 2006 Honorable Mention
Learning Manners
by Barbara Schnell
In 1969, I was a rebellious teenager so
my parents, deciding that I needed to learn appreciation for them
and civilization, sent me to stay with my grandfather in the mountains,
He didn’t even have TV. The first week Grandpa put me to work
in his vegetable garden. Next to the garden was an old sign that
was a Thesaurus of verbs warning people to stay off the plants.
I hadn’t seen another person for a week so I asked Grandpa
why it was there. Grandpa was cleaning his shotgun at the time.
“Well,” he said finally, “I had a young feller
used to run through my property. I asked him nice not to run in
my garden but he said he wasn’t running, he was jogging. Every
time he ran through my garden he said something sassy so I put up
my sign and added the word. Just to let him know I was paying attention,
you see.” Grandpa paused, inserted two shells in the shotgun,
and snapped it shut. “Well, when I ran out of room for words
on the sign I peppered him with my gun here.”
I stared at Grandpa, horrified.
Grandpa grinned. “I didn’t use buckshot,” he
assured me. “Just rock salt. But it got the young feller’s
attention. Which brings me to you. Your mama asked if I could teach
you some manners. You think I should?”
I amended my fractious ways. I didn’t want Grandpa teaching
me manners.
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