What killed our culture

I can still remember Bun, my dear departed Mom, giving me strict instructions on how to greet people as I walked down busy Main Street in Hartington, Nebraska.

"Now you look people right in the eye and say hello. If you know who they are, then you say Hello Mr. So and So or Hello Mrs. So and so. You never call an adult by their first name unless they give you permission to do so, understand?"

I was a little confused. There were Robinsons, and Stouts, and Haleys, and O'Mearas, and Shumways, but I never did meet the So and Sos. Go figure.

Anyway, that advice propelled me to great hights in Hartington. I became popular as a young man on his way to somewhere. Nobody has that figured out yet, but I was on the way.

I went on to college at Huskerville, in Lincoln, Nebraska. Every Nebraska kid wanted to go there and watch football. It took a few years to figure out why I was there and get technical with a major. Mom's advice served me well and I managed to get into a great Fraternity. Soon, I was the first college grad in the family and was on my way to Connecticut to go to work for the Good and or Glorious Remington Arms Company. "Hello Mr. Mitchell. Hello Mr. McAndrews. Hello Mr. Larson, OK, hello Einar."

Mom's rules helped me climb the corporate ladder. Well, make that a footstool because I only stayed at Remington for four years. I came back to Huskerville to open an advertising agency and watch more football.

Then it happened. Society stopped saying hello. Society stopped looking one another in the eye unless you had a tin cup and looked a little bummie. People's heads bounced up and down and some looked like they had the palsey as their bodies slinked along the sidewalks, oblivious to anyone and anything.

Everyone seemed to have a headband on and ear cups. The Sony Walkman had arrived and it was no longer important to meet and greet and be social. You could sing and walk and talk to yourself and not pay attention to anyone and anything.

My mom would not have liked this change unless she knew you could listen to Nebraska Football anywhere with one.

And the poor So and Sos would be lost in the I-Pod shuffle. Too bad. They were probably very nice people.