Chivalry isn't dead

 He was a dapper-looking gentleman with shiny shoes and a fedora hat worn close to the brow at a slight angle. His pocket kerchief matched his tie, one of several sets he owned. He wore a double-breasted navy blue suit, trousers cuffed to touch the top of his shoes, and a Hart-Schnafer and Marks topcoat as the cold winds blew on this otherwise perfect day to be alive. He walked the way he was taught: shoulders back and eyes ahead, scanning the city streets for damsels in distress who might need his assistance. Mind you, he was in no way a pervert, just a gentleman wanting to let people know chivalry was in no way dead. He spotted a young woman nearing her due date, holding on for dear life as strangers' hands brushed against her in a way she tried to block out. He immediately stood and motioned for her to take his seat, which she gladly did, all the while thinking there were still some gentlemen in the world.

As he got off at his stop, he noticed a lady at the newsstand fumbling with her purse to get the money for her favorite magazine, which she bought every week. He noticed a line forming behind her, with people getting loud and telling her to move, but she couldn't find her change purse; she thought she'd put it in her purse that morning. He gently worked his way to the front of the line, smiling at the angry group as he handed the stand worker a crisp dollar bill for the magazine and another dollar as a tip for the inconvenience. Then, with a tip of his hat, he disappeared back into the crowd, leaving the lady behind him and telling herself chivalry was alive and well.
The rain began to fall as people ran for cover, holding newspapers over their heads and running into each other with little concern for anything else, like the older man shuffling along at the speed of a turtle, getting bumped and bumped some more until he ducked into a diner to dry off and have a cup of coffee to warm his bones. The gentleman watched from a distance as the waitress went right past the older man once, twice, three times before he noticed his worn clothes and shoes, the toe area cut off so he'd get more use out of them, at least for a little while. And a dirty coat with missing buttons, a sure sign the older man had no money for a meal. On the waitress's fifth pass without stopping, the gentleman cleared his throat to get her attention. She stopped with a smile and her order pad ready to write up his order. “ What will it be??" she asked. "Funny you should ask," he replied. “ Let's start with your so-called big breakfast." I'd like five of those, with coffee and some orange juice. One is for the gentleman down on his luck that you passed on by five times. The others will be for the four children in the booth, sitting with their mother, drinking water and wishing it could be more, but their well-worn clothes told him they had no money for anything and just hoped they could get out of the rain until it stopped. He paid the bill at the register, leaving the waitress a single quarter as her tip. On his way out, the mom grabbed his coat and, with tears in her eyes, said Chivarly was indeed alive and well.
Back out in the rain, he walked along the edge of the street to shield others from the spray of a passing car. He tipped his fedora, now looking like a waterfall as the rain ran off it, but he didn't mind. He walked straight up like he was taught, meeting eyes with eyes and always on the job to help where he could. In his mind, Chivalry isn't dead; it's just playing possum until another gentleman steps out, rain or shine, to offer his assistance.

Mike 2026