HOLLY NADLER

508-274-2329

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

Hey, babe, we’re back from L.A. and relearning to take off our shades before sundown. Here’s something picked up from West Coast living that might prove beneficial for the crème de lacrème of Islanders, i.e., the citizens of Oak Bluffs:

Out West there’s this gal named Amy Alkon who, with consummate humility, calls herself The Advice Goddess. She goes about scolding the unmannerly and even video-taping their antics and posting them on her Web site. She takes no prisoners, blasting the loud, the pushy, and those who wear polka dots over paisley. Recently, for instance, she tore into a party of young folk exiting a nightclub and continuing to shout their over-the-music banter into residential streets. After informing them they’d caused dogs to bark and babies to awaken, she summed up: “Clearly you were badly raised.”

“Are you saying that because we’re Asian?” they asked.

She replied, “No, it’s because you’re loud, inconsiderate [expletive deleted].”

On many occasions she lambastes parents for the misbehavior of their “feral” children. “Yes, I’m parenting your children,” she tells them. “Why don’t you?”

You can probably guess where your columnist is going with this woman’s crusade: We need a civilian manners coach to chastise our summer’s small but potent minority of rudeniks. What a rush it would be to employ a names-taker with a clipboard to correct the obnoxious among us.

“You, sir, are monopolizing an entire square yard of sidewalk. Do you realize people are stepping off the curb to get around you?”

And, “No, this bus driver does not take drachmas, nor do the 20 people behind you appreciate your digging through your pockets for change.”

And, “I stopped the car to allow you to cross the street. You proceeded to lope in front of me as if the asphalt were coated in molasses. Now you halt midway to hail a friend, point out a landmark, and set up a card table for a game of gin rummy.”

I’m thinking that this lesson in civility need not be conducted with a rudeness equal to the original misdemeanor. In fact, it appears as if Ms. Ashton The Advice Goddess could acquire some manners of her own. No one responds well to harsh criticism, and I’ll betcha the recidivism rate of her culprits is 100 per cent.

But what if the behavior mod were performed without rancor and with, dare it be said, compassion? I performed a test run this past Tuesday on the bus from Logan Airport to Braintree. In the opposite row, a 70ish man with a white beard and wearing a well-tailored grey suit carried on a conversation on his cell phone. He wasn’t especially loud or ill-spoken. Like most phone chats, his pitch was louder than the normal susurrations of face-to-face dialogues being carried on throughout the bus. You could hear this man word for word and therefore his plans to visit Costco and what to purchase there, the details of an upcoming brunch at his home in Elyria, Ohio, the sights he toured in the past couple of days in North Carolina, the goals he set for himself for his coming business meeting at the Hilton in Dedham; all of this and more, delivered in a persistent monotone, defined the 40-minute ride for all of his surrounding passengers.

I wondered if it were possible to perform an Advice Goddess intervention on him. Could it be done gently enough that my Southie husband, Jack, seated some seven seats back, would not be obliged to rush up to block Mr. Phone from landing a punch on my nose?

I decided to go for it. After all, if I learned I had one day to live, wouldn’t I take advantage of the opportunity by speaking my mind? Wouldn’t you?

When the bus pulled in before the Braintree terminal, I leaned forward and addressed Mr. Grey Suit in a tone I’d use for someone who’d dropped an envelope. “You know,” I said, very matter of fact, “it’s probably a good idea on public transportation to use cell phones only for emergencies or to quickly set up an appointment. Anything more than that — long conversations, in other words — are disturbing to people around you.”

“Here! Here!” piped up a woman in the seat behind him.

The man looked shocked but not homicidal. And he nodded as if to say, “Duly noted.” Later in the terminal he struck up an acquaintance with a man who agreed to share a cab to the Dedham Hilton. They chatted amiably, which is to say that my Miss Manners action hadn’t plunged Mr. Grey Suit into a suicidal depression.

So maybe we can all bestow a little gentle nudging over the coming summer. Although the idea of forming a department called Oak Bluffs B.S. (Behavior Squad) is still a tempting notion.