Our children know very little etiquette because exposure to it outside of the home is rare. When I go into public spaces, doors are infrequently held for me, servers rarely greet me with a warm smile, and folks often have little ability or desire to engage in conversation. Online and phone service is now provided by bots, and the presence of technology at dining room tables is everywhere.
But, when I grew up, etiquette was not optional. I was taught to greet adults with a smile and a firm handshake, to sit up at the table, to chew my food with my mouth closed, and to respect my elders. The number of rules I had to follow in my own home was downright suffocating, at times. Nevertheless, I now find myself nostalgic for etiquette because it is a lost art and because it preserves human connection, something our world craves. With a decreased focus on etiquette and an increased obsession with technology, we all are suffering from too much self-absorption.
Etiquette training builds social and cultural awareness. It is linked to civility and requires us to be mindful of one another. It is a distinctly human venture. Mindfulness, a hot topic right now, is heralded for improving our mood, reducing stress, and ensuring better sleep. But, mindfulness today is often used as a way to be more selfish, to focus on what we need in order to be more at ease or to perform optimally on the job, unaware that what we really need is more connection.
Instead, we should be mindful about showing compassion to others, which, in turn, will serve our own emotional well-being, all of which can be reinforced through etiquette. I am simply encouraging that we make room for one another. That we allow someone else to go ahead of us in the grocery store line, that we smile or talk to that stranger in the elevator rather than act distracted or busy with our phone, that we listen to one another without fidgeting or interruption, and that we try to make someone else’s day a little better.
I miss my always impeccably-dressed father who knew just where to stand and just how to carry himself in a George Clooney or Cary Grant sort of throwback, gentlemanly way. He never had to be the center of attention, but drew people in nonetheless with his poise and temperament. Meanwhile, my mom clung to another lost art, penmanship. She prided herself on her cursive writing and demanded that her three daughters pen beautiful, sincere, and prompt thank you notes. How will we, in turn, as parents and mentors, be remembered by our children’s generation?
These “lost arts” — from gracious conversation to handwritten notes — are not just relics of another time. They’re the small, daily gestures that build trust, warmth, and understanding between people. When we abandon these arts, we risk losing something irreplaceable. We want our children to know what it feels like to be truly seen, so we must reclaim etiquette: the practice of being present for each other.