Dad left the farm and joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1939 at 18 years of age. He returned from the war and went to the University of Saskatoon, graduating with an Engineering Degree. He met Mom there and they married in 1950. Somewhere along that path, while recovering and working in Calgary or attending Uni in Saskatoon he decided that the farm boy needed to learn some “etiquette” and purchased a book, likely Emily Post’s or Miss Manners or the like. These were still popular at the time and in a different time for sure. It must have helped, if it was indeed needed as I think he was well-mannered, a professional, and I think we were well-raised. The only times I can recall him ever being embarrassing was when, and because, he had run out of “fucks” to give. Like that time . . .

Fast forward to the late sixties, early seventies. Len and Dora have a houseful of kids and an active church social life. One of the mainstays of that was “Couples Club” when sitters were hired, or enlisted in our older sisters’ case, and all the adults convened for socializing one Saturday night a month. Mostly dinner parties I think, or barely recall, because that would be the middle-class Christian frugally-responsible think to do.

One of the ladies of the club had recently had a hysterectomy. Of course the men knew that and any details from their wives, whether they wanted to or not. The following CC meeting was only a week or so after Mrs. Jones recent surgery and she attended. Looking great so soon after major surgery, Dad made a polite comment about here obvious quick and hail recovery.

At one point during the evening Mom looked across the room to see Mrs. Jones animatedly chatting and Dad with a face that Mom recognized as a mixture of great discomfort and embarrassment. The evening’s event ended and all dispersed. On the ride home Mom asked Dad about the chat he and Mrs. Jones had. After a long pause Dad responded “You know one of the cardinal rules of etiquette I learned long ago?”

Mom “No?”

Dad “Never mention or ask of any woman’s medical issues”.

Apparently Mrs. Jones was quite forthcoming, nay enthusiastic, to share with him the details of her hysterectomy, episiotomy etc.

Even for a father of 5-6, or at least our father, in the midst of the second feminist wave it was too much for him, and likely most of his well-mannered peers.