Naturally, this made me nervous, as did the cowboy’s request that my son refer to the men he met as “Mister” and then their last names. I’d raised my son as I myself had been raised by my hippie parents, to thwart and even mock such conventions.
The day came when my son was to meet one of the neighbors. The cowboy alerted his male friends that he was trying to teach my son proper handshake etiquette and that if he didn’t do it right they were encouraged to correct him on the spot—not to “jump on his case,” but rather to jokingly point out that Alexander could do better, along the lines of “Is that the best you can do?”