Acquiring Habits

Evening Star, Issue 26091, 3 May 1947, Page 10

Acquiring Habits

(Written by Mary Scott for the ‘ Evening Star.’) “ If only you could make it a habit to keep your collection money in a suitable place,” said my friend, with a toopatient sigh. Admittedly 1 had been taken unawares. Accustomed to a certain amount of pomp and ceremony , in the taking up of a church .collection, I had forgotten the ways of country services and was unprepared for the incredible spryness of the Oldest Inhabitant. Obviously, too, he was the ruling spirit of the place; boasting a mere 88 years, he had been vigorously pulling the bell rope as we walked up the quiet path to the little Church-by-the-Sea. Later his indomitable if erratic baritone had dominated the singing—and then suddenly, with no warning at all, he had whipped up a collection plate which had lain concealed on the seat behind him, and presented it beneath our startled noses with no preliminary and with a certain threatening air. Who wouldn’t have been startled? Yet my. plight could not compare with that of an unfortunate - stranger to the village whose unhappy fate has passed into history. Slipping late into a well-filled church, she had taken a humble seat beside the Oldest - Inhabitant. whose family pew , was already well filled, and had sat unawres Upon the hidden collection plate. For a moment she was startled; certainly her resting place was bleak and uncomfortable, but how investigate in a crowded church with a service already in progress? Therefore she had remained decorously if unhappily seated until the Oldest Inhabitant looked about for his weapon. Now, the only concession he has made .to tiine is in the matter of hearing; impossible for his family to explain the situation ; the plate was gone; the record of many decades would be broken, and the collection remain in the unworthy pockets of the congregation. The affair ended, I believe, in an unseemly scuffle in which the unfortunate stranger was ignominiously ousted from her precarious perch. >

However that may be,‘ he certainly found me wanting, and I. fumbled frenziedly until 1 remembered having placed the coin in my glove, and having later removed that glove. Without going further into painful ‘ details, I shall only say that my friend was confused by the publicity of the affair and the snorting impatience of the Oldest Inhabitant. “If only I would make a habit of keeping it in a suitable place.” '. Now this seems to me unjust, What exactly is a suitable place for your collection ? Deprived on a hot summer’s day of pockets, only a glove remains—or the. unseemly ostentation of placing the coin upon the pew before you. Next time, I warned her, I shall tie it in the corner of my ha'riakerchief. “ And then leave your handkerchief at home, as you have a habit of doing,” she coniment'ed unkindly. These habits . . . All my life people have told me that I should either acquire some habit or get rid‘ of one. “If only you would make a habit of looking after your spectacles.” “ If only you wouldn’t make a habit of losing things.” Now 'it seems to me that yriu'can’t have it both ways If it is true, as many psychologists say, that it is a mistake to be ruled by habit,; then a good habit is just as bad for your soul as a bad one. “ Yes, but the bad habits make you a nuisance to other people,” the critic on the hearth here interpolated. Still, I have always envied people who have what are known as “ sensible habits.” People who put their glasses (for example) ip them, case and the case on the mantelshelf.. Now, that is a habit I have striven after ever since I was forced to wear glasses for near work. Indeed, in theory I have already acquired it; it is so simple; the movements are automatic. (1) Remove your glasses. (2) Place in case. (3) Rise and< place case on mantelshelf. It is as easy as that. ® But how acquire it?: For. example, when the milk boils over and you have lo if aye your chair and your book at one bound, naturally your, glasses suffer.’ Either they crash to the floor and one of the spaniels makes off with them, or you find them later on the sink shelf, mixed up with the clsth you have seized for remedial purposes. But they tell me that, if it was a habit, you would, put them away even as you reach for the offending saucepan. It may be so, but it doesn’t work out like that with me.

Then there is the habit of putting your small change in your purse, your notes in a note case, and both in your bag. 1 always begin like that when 1 cash a cheque, but before 1 have visited tliteo shops everything is in a muddle, and I am fishing madly in the depths of ihy bag with no idea at all what may emerge from it. Of course, there is this advantage—if, 1 lose my purse, it is very ihiprobable that I shall lose any money at all. That is much more likely to.be in the pocket of my coat, or in my spectacle case, which, of course, is in the pocket of the car. In the very unlikely contingency of a thief stealing my whole bag, he would- probably acquire a, great number of hairpins, a mass of old raffle tickets (I have never won a raffle (in my life, but I always keep all the tickets for six months in case there is a mistake and mine is the winning coupon books, an old telegram or two, and the shopping lists made with care ; for my last six expeditions which disappeared so incredibly when wanted, and then were in the bag after all. But lie wouldn’t get any money. That would be loose in my shopping bag, with perhaps an odd note tucked into my cigarette case. In this way, when the day comes that I am robbed, I shall ;certainlv baffle the pickpocket. But that day has not _ yet-dawned, and meantime the acquisition of ordinary habits is @o desirable. You save -so much time and temper, your own and other people’s.. If only, for example, you made a habit of carrying your theatre tickets in the pocket of your bag (doubtless planned for the (purpose bv some orderly mind), you ;would not lipid up an exasperated queue *hile you searched for > them. There are so many such huriiiliating experiences to look back upon, when just one orderly habit would have saved me, that 1 spoke wistfully the othgr day to a learned friend on the subject.- He looked profound and congratulated me on not being ruled by habit; quoting, I think, Montaigne, who advised man not to acquire habits, but “to break in upon. his rules and stir uj; energy, and so keep from becoming mouldy’and lazy.” This comforted me immensely. I should hate to be mouldy. The next time that my spectacles or my collection money elude me. I shall smile in a superior way "and say: “ But 1 follow Montaigne’s' advice.” I hope that perliape someone may believe me.