We were watching a movie tonight which took place in the nineteen fifties or sixties. In the last scene the hero was reunited with his estranged father. My husband, Tom, who is a real sucker for a tearjerker flick anyway, was already sniffling when this happened. “Why aren’t they hugging?” he blubbered. “Because men didn’t hug other men in the fifties” I observed.
Men sure have changed. The hug-evolution taking over the country has been punctuated by the ascendance of our new President to the helm of our nation. It is reported that the Cabinet starts every meeting with a group embrace.
How gentlemen’s etiquette moved from the firm handshake to a big hug has not been seamless. Many fellows are still not quite sure what they are doing and the look on their faces reveals their uneasiness. They never have their eyes open and their heads often bob this way and that to avoid direct contact with some other guy’s face. Some men who absolutely refuse to hug jump back from any sort of contact afraid even to stick out a hand for a nice shake for fear of being yanked into an uncomfortable clinch.
Young men are doing some kind of jumping street-savvy chest banging ritual with locked fist pumping action followed with high fiving. Whatever that greeting is supposed to do, it reminds me of the secret handshakes fraternity men claimed they did with the brothers when I went to college. I’ll bet the chest bangers of today would gag if they thought they were in any way like the capitalist frat boys with little ponies on their shirts. Actually, I was always intrigued by that secret handshake stuff which led to tantalizing hints of the moga-moga which went on in the mysterious Chapter room at the fraternity house. Maybe it was just another come-on but it got my attention all right.
The current expression of greeting, man to man, is big and strong and usually topped off with some resounding backslapping. That is if the men are about the same height. It is my observation that really tall men don’t hug shorter guys. I guess the idea of some dude’s mug in your stomach isn’t too appealing. And vice-versa. The hugging age has been fueled not only by men finding their feminine sides but also by professional athletes recognizing their achievements. If burly football players with bodies like refrigerators can grab onto each other and dance a mad tango around the field after performing semi-felonious assaults on members of the other team, why not associates in the boardroom after the big deal is made? Basketball players do it; baseball players of course have been doing group hugs and throw-downs on the winning mound for years. Golfers are just catching on. Perhaps because they would be fined if they messed up the 18th green with their cleats if they got too rambunctious with each other, opponents still shake hands, however meaninglessly, with perhaps a teeny touch to the shoulder with the free hand after the round. I suppose having just lost the game to the other guy probably diminishes one’s appetite for an affectionate squeeze.
Traditional fathers like mine professed to know a potential suitor’s character by the strength of the pimply-faced youth’s first handshake grip. Are 21st century Dads sizing up their daughter’s boyfriends by the warmth of their first meeting hug? Hmm-mm, I wonder.
Love, Carol. Dot.Com
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Wrapping It Up
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