The Past is Not Another Country
When I was a child in Naples, the trams had signs on them telling people not to spit and also to offer up seats to the “mutilati di guerra” (the war wounded). The first sign always puzzled me. Spitting was terribly bad-mannered, of course, but why was this instruction so much more necessary than any other? It took one of my many elderly relatives to tell me that spitting and coughing into the space where others were could spread disease. And diseases could kill….