This is from a piece I did on my mother many years ago: We are discussing her age which she says ladies never should reveal: Phyllis: Oh, for heaven’s sake, mother, I would think you’d be proud of your age. Mother: Why? P. Because you are still going strong at eighty-one. M: Oh, that’s utter nonsense, that’s how much YOU know. Just wait until you get to be my age and then you’ll see––then you’ll be singing a different tune and you’ll stop prettying up decrepitude. P: Well, I hardly think that was what I was doing. My, my, you certainly have such a damn hang up about this age thing. M: Don’t say damn, Phyllis, it isn’t nice. P. DAMN! M. Ladies don’t swear, remember that. They also don’t write about you- know- what like you did in that piece you sent me from your writing seminar. P: I have no idea what you are talking about. M: You know P: No, I don’t know M. I’ll spell it–––S-E-X. What can your professor think? P: She laughed M: Well, I never! Things certainly are changing–––in my day– P: It’s still your day, mother. M: I just want you to explain to your class that your mother is not batty. (she is referring to the piece I wrote about her) P: I will, I will. I know how concerned they must be. M: Sarcasm isn’t nice either, Phyllis. What I’m driving at is if those people think you have a mother with some loose screw, what can they think of you? P: Like mother, like daughter, you mean? M: Exactly P: Yes, well, I see your point. We wouldn’t want them to get the wrong impression. M: Always better to show your good side. You come from good stock, Phyllis, not a line of daffy ducks. You remember what Grandma always said: If you can’t say anything good about a person, you just don’t say anything. P: Uh, huh M: Butter would have melted in her mouth. P: Uh,huh M: When she first laid eyes on your cousin, Jimmy, who was what one could call a perfectly ugly baby, do you know what she said? P: I can’t imagine M: She looked at that child and said, “My, he’s clean.” P: Mother–what does this have to do with––– M: And another time when Verna Schmitt, who dressed herself in the most outrageous outfits asked Grrandma for her opinion on a simply dreadful new dress she was wearing, Gramdma said, “Verna, that little blue feather in your hat matches yours eyes exactly.” My point, as you say, is to behave like a lady and you will be treated like one. (my mother lived to be 100 and in her dotage she would sit outside her room at her retirement home to try and trip people with her cane. She also started to swear like a sailor. So much for being a lady––something I just never bought into.)

A lady is polite and kind. dresses to look her best, but, not expose her body parts! has a great sense of humor, but, never at anyones expense. Never talks about her friends behind their back. Faces her past without regre, Handles her present with confidence and prepares for the future without fear. Mom talked about the underwear, dad talked about how your actions tell others who you really are. If mom new the underwear I wear she would be saying “why bother”! My dad, I am sure looks down on me and says keep going, you are doing fine…..

This is a tuff Q for me on account my mother was vacant most of my developing years. I thought not to answer at all because she told me very little. And it would seem according to this list I have broken most of the rules for being a polite lady … all but the underpants thing. Anyways, my daughter is 19 and I did give her the underpants spiel and I told her sit up straight, don’t chew gum like cow, don’t smoke in public and don’t drink too much in public, the clothes you wear must be clean not necessarily in style just clean, go after the things you want the most and do eat like a pig and do not howl in public like a banshee!

Everything that Candice said ! My mother sent me to” charm school” where I also learned how to walk properly,we weren’t supposed to let our heels click on the floor when we walked, shoulders back, head up etc. bend at the knee, sit on the edge of a chair. Hold your hands in your lap.Never let any straps show, bra or slip. No elbows on the table. Speak in a quiet voice.

Straight out of college I worked at an employment agency in Atlanta, Georgia. (I thought I could work there AND find myself a better job.) I lived in New York before that and was not prepared for the summer heat. The “lady” who ran the all-female agency told us that real ladies always wear pantyhose, even in summer, so I did. She was big on appearances. It took a few days for me to realize that she wanted us to quickly get rid of any customers who were not female or white. I was appalled; my current project was finding a job for a black man who really needed work to support his family. After days of searching for him exclusively I found him a good job (and was angrily called into her office quite a few times). That afternoon I took my lunch break, never to return, went back to my apartment and called every number I could find in the phonebook to report the agency. The next time I saw her she was out of business. I don’t know if that was because of me, but I took it as a personal triumph. When I came back to New York, I had an office job where my male supervisor felt free to tell me I should be married and having children, not working. He told me I was a distraction to an almost all-male office, and he almost hadn’t hired me because I was a lady, but I was the best worker on his editorial staff. (I was 23 years old. It was the late 1970s, not the middle ages.) When he started correcting me on my posture, I almost quit. I stayed long enough to take over his job and hire qualified men and women. After those experiences, I called myself a woman and never let anyone refer to me as a lady. I don’t wear pantyhose in the summer. I wear clean underwear and I have never smoked or chewed gum. I am amazed at the consistency in everyone’s answers, as these were the same rules I had. When I submitted this question, I was thinking about the sexism engendered by a title, an aspiration to please and follow the rules. Strength of character was not a rule my mother taught me to “be a lady.” It just came with the territory.

A few days ago, I was watching a tv quiz show where the answer was “Old Maid” — the card game I grew up on. Neither contestant new the answer — both in their 20s — which I guess was a good sign. I wonder if girls are still playing that game. That reminds me of another rule — don’t take the last piece of meat, cake, potato, etc. Don’t take the last thing on the serving plate because, if you do, you will be an old maid. I think I have old maids on my mind as I rented Bette Davis’s “The Old Maid” over the weekend. If you like Bette and stories with beginnings, middles and ends, you’ll like this.

Much of what has already been said, manners were very important and grammer. I was told never to do anything in public that I wouldn’t do in front of my parents.

I was lucky enough to have a mother who taught me the importance of using common sense - I don’t remember her ever using the term “lady” but she taught us that people with “good sense” wear clean underwear, say please and thank you, don’t swear, don’t tell lies, respect their elders, and look their best (without being “showy”). I always cared more about being smart than acting like a lady - I think that’s the way many country girls felt.

Ditto to Ms. Bergen! And never ever tell a man to throw the bow lines. After all, it’s bad enough when you’re at the helm. Gosh I miss the sea….lol

Always be true to yourself and honest with everyone else. Keep your knees together when getting in or out of a car, chair, ect. Never walk around with your hands in your pockets. Never add more “wiggle” than you plan to use! And finally, never laugh when Daddy passes gas!