"Is anyone using this chair, ma'am?"
He was a tall, lanky young man, one of several about to sit
down, as I had, to eat a quick pizza before heading to the gate for boarding.
He was making sure that his buddy would have a seat at their table, and he was
paying respect to his elder.
Twenty years ago, when I arrived in Austin to teach at the
university, I was, by criteria both objective and subjective, still a young
woman. More significantly, I was a Yankee, where we didn't traffic in the
politesse of "sir," or "ma'am." When I was so addressed, I bristled. Not just
at the advanced age it implied, but also at the social conservatism I inferred
from its formality.
Back then I'd request not to be addressed that way, or
suggest that it wasn't necessary. Of course, this confused and sometimes even
panicked the students. I was told once by a friend that it wasn't fair to mess
with their golden rules.
But in the airport pizza parlor, I relented. Something
inside unexpectedly slackened, and I offered no resistance. I'm 50, how else is
a proper young Texan gentleman going to address me? I have more significant
causes to invest in now.
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