I couldn’t sleep. So I snuck out in the wee hours to see the Great American Christmas tree.
Beneath its branches were gifts of various sizes, marked with cards to identity their contents. One expensively-wrapped gift read: “Prosperity.” Another flashing one read: “Technology.” There was a huge blue package that simply said “AVATAR.”
But one small box caught my eye. It was open. The wrapping paper had been ripped away. The top was off. Inside, I saw the box was empty, as if its contents had been dumped out.
I picked up a fallen card, torn in half.
It read: “Civility.”
Just then, I heard a small bang. I ran across the room and saw Civility itself trying to open the window.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Haven’t you heard?” Civility said. “I’m out of style. Out of touch. So I’m outta here.”
I watched it try to undo the window latch. Unfortunately, like most nouns, Civility didn’t have hands.
“Ummph,” it grunted. “How does this thing work?”
“I’ll get it,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Civility smiled. “See? Was that so hard? Saying ‘You’re welcome?’ ”
I thought for a moment. I closed the lock.
“I thought you were going to help me,” Civility said.
“First, can I ask why you’re leaving?”
“May you ask?’
“Yes. May I ask why you’re leaving.”
Civility sighed. Politely. But a sigh just the same.
Times are tough for Civility ― and civility
“Once,” Civility said, “I was the belle of the Christmas ball. It was the time of year when I shone the brightest. People were polite. They were kind and charitable. They went door to door caroling. And even if the carolers were slightly off key, the neighbors always smiled.”
“And today?” I asked.
“Today, they check their Ring cameras, and if it’s not an Amazon delivery, they threaten to call the police. Or they yell “Porch Pirate!”
“Hmm,” I said. “Well, surely people are more civil outside the home?”
“Where?” Civility asked. “The workplace? People are so nasty in the workplace, emails should come with detonation instructions.”
“What about the shopping mall?”
“Have you ever seen two desperate parents when there’s only one Star Wars Lego set left?”
“How about online?”
“Social media?” Civility shook its head as best it could, since nouns don’t have necks. “Have you ever read the reaction when an overweight person posts a photo in Christmas sweater? Santa Claus doesn’t have a naughty list long enough for those responses! It’s so bad that —”
“But you can’t just —” I stopped. “Sorry. I interrupted you.”
“No, please, go right ahead,” Civility said.
“Really?”
“I insist.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Right. Anyhow, you can’t just walk out on us. How would we talk to each other? What would America be if it gave up on civil discourse?”
“I’m afraid,” Civility said, “that ship has sailed …”
A heck of a virtue
Civility waved its arm, or whatever passes as an arm on a noun. And the walls turned into a mural of rude, insensitive and downright mean moments from 2025. There was a football game between the University of Colorado and Brigham Young where the Colorado student section yelled slurs against Mormons. There were reality TV shows where the contestants consistently berated each other. And there was an entire wall devoted to the President Donald Trump, yelling “Piggy” at a reporter, berating the Ukrainian president for not being grateful enough and posting that Rob and Michelle Reiner’s murder by their son was somehow due to their “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”
Civility shrugged. “Like I said, I’m out of style.”
With that, Civility slid under the closed window frame and tumbled out into the snow. I ran outside, to find it shivering and gasping for breath.
I gathered it up, took it inside and warmed it by the fire. In time, Civility began to glow.
“Thank you,” it said, leaning back into the couch. “I didn’t realize it was so cold out there. I’ve never tried to run away before.”
“Listen,” I said. “If we promised to try and remember our manners, would you consider getting back in the gift box?”
“I don’t know …”
“You are a gift to this country.”
“Well,” Civility said, “America did used to value me. Heck, even the early civics classes in this country were about me.”
It leaned in. “Sorry about the word ‘heck.’ ”
“No problem,” I said.
Civility sneezed.
“God bless you,” I said.
Civility slowly smiled. It rose from the couch, walked back to the box, and pulled the cover over its head.
“God bless you, too,” it said.
And as I taped up the wrapping paper and replaced the bow, I heard a voice from inside say, “If you don’t mind, could you place me next to Technology? I want to discuss this TikTok thing …”
Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.
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