I was raised in a family where we had a very strong sense of right and wrong. It was reinforced not only through what we learned in church and at school, but also in the family itself. Early on, I knew that my actions would bring consequences, and it really helped keep me in line. I found out, for instance, that if I tore up my brother's things for fun, I'd get punished. Over time, I came to know that the real bad feeling didn't come from any physical punishment; it came from knowing you'd disappointed those closest to you, and that you'd let them down.
From all these institutions in our small town, we got an education in the social contract. It was never openly stated in so many words (I can't imagine my family sitting around discussing the social contract), but it was just considered "the right thing to do." We knew, for instance, that if someone was hurt that you looked in on them to make sure they were okay. If a neighbor needed help, you'd come over. If somebody's dog got lost and wandered over, you called them to let them know. Yes, people could annoy the crap out of one another in my hometown, and the gossip could be stifling at times, but you always knew that when things hit the wall, somebody would look out for you.
Along with those things was a knowledge of the things you just as importantly didn't do. You didn't, for instance, bad-mouth someone's family or friends or religion (at least not in front of them). You watched your language. You took turns speaking. You listened. You never treated yourself as more important than the other person. And you behaved. As a child, you always knew that anything you did, your parents would find out. That was plenty of incentive to mind what you did.
Out of this childhood -- and I make it sound like I grew up in Mayberry, which to some extent I did, but the real versions of Mayberry aren't as idyllic as you'd be tempted to think -- came a real sense of right and wrong. Which, as you can imagine, meant that I'd be in for quite the shock when the time came to go elsewhere, and be around people who weren't raised the way I was. There was quite the period when I'd get very frustrated because all around me, I'd see rules being broken and no one facing any consequences for them.
To some extent, I've become numbed to it, but it still doesn't stop me from grumbling about it. For instance, I can see trash strewn all over a roadside or in a parking lot, and wonder what kind of self-respect a person can have who does that. Or I see someone tearing through a stop sign and not even thinking twice about it (not only rude, but also potentially fatal, and few things get me angrier than someone knowingly creating a situation that could put someone else in danger). In fact, one of the worst instances happened a few years ago, when we stopped at the local rifle range. We were sitting in the truck, and there was this one guy with a fancy rifle who had an audience. He was showing off, and not watching where the weapon was pointing. At one point he rather casually waved it in our direction. I told hubby, "Let's get out of here." I wasn't comfortable being within range of someone acting like that: one of the people who act stupid and get someone hurt or killed.
I get along okay in the modern world. Or, at least, I've learned to get by while hanging on to my sanity. On the other hand, I often feel I was literally raised in a different time, in a different world. Quite often, I don't recognize what's around me. I like some of the changes I see -- the diversity's a good thing, for one, and the technology's also nice -- but, on the other hand, I'm really taken aback by the toxic levels of disregard, both for other people and for the consequences of one's own actions, I often see around me. I may have learned to grit my teeth and bear it, but it doesn't stop me from saying, "You know, my mama and daddy taught me better than that." I may not always live up to their expectations, but I'm glad, at least, they taught me that much.
