Wouldn’t life be a lot more pleasant if we all could just remember the one simple rule that all children used to learn as soon they were able to start swatting their playmates with their rag dolls: “Treat others as you would like to be treated”?

Every single religion has some version of “The Golden Rule,” but I doubt one out of 10 Americans has a clue about it anymore. People are on their own invisible tracks, zipping along, arms extended, oblivious to the bodies they’re knocking over.

I dread going out in crowds now because of this reign of rudeness. But there I was, mingling with the masses on a holiday weekend, trying to get around people who were congregating on stairways, making sure folks who were talking on cellphones while exiting restaurant drive-throughs weren’t going to run me over as I passed by on a sidewalk, and enduring conversations going on over my head while standing in line.

Then my husband Paul and I stopped for lunch. We had just begun to eat when a woman entered the small cafe pushing a giant stroller. I admit that I have a dislike for these things. They represent all that is wrong with the current mores of American parenthood. That is, they are too much.

Particularly in this case, as the oversized vehicle contained an infant of approximately 6 weeks of age. I could see her tiny pink feet kicking up from the carriage (yes, they were adorable). This perspective was possible because the stroller was now wedged between our table and the next table. I had a lovely view of those wee toes.

I might have said, “Aww,” except that the baby was screaming. Bellowing. Bawling. Tearing a teensy-weensy lung out. Right next to our table.

Now, I have every sympathy for parents who must deal with fretful infants. However, it is a well-known fact that babies cry quite frequently. Those who have only recently left the womb, as this bundle of joy had, are especially likely to demand a diaper change or a feeding at the most inconvenient times.

Shouldn’t parents plan to deal with these needs anywhere but in a crowded restaurant, where people have plunked down $25 for lunch and simply want to eat without a backdrop of lustful baby wails?

Mama, however, apparently thought she was doing just fine. First, she sat her toddler down at the table and arranged a variety of snacks in front of her. That’s right, she wasn’t there to actually buy anything.

Then, with much cooing, and pronouncements of “You must be hungry” (you think?), she swept the baby up and pressed her to her breast. Mercifully, baby went silent.

I think Mama must have seen me eyeing the cheese sticks and apple slices on the table, because as soon as the baby was full, she and the toddler went to the counter to buy a milk.

Yeah, that made everything peachy-keen, lady.

The only bright side of this incident involved the young woman who was sitting with her boyfriend directly opposite from me.

She watched the whole squalling episode with such horror, I’m sure she was put off having kids for at least a decade. She should be able to finish high school and college first. The two ran out as soon as they finished their meal.

I wonder why Mama did not think to bring her children to the seating area outside the cafe. It was shady, and there was plenty of room.

Perhaps she could have asked another adult to accompany her on her outing, or even hired a babysitter to help. The helper could have taken the toddler into the cafe, while she dealt with the baby in a more appropriate location.

Or, she might have just stayed home with her bébé. Does a six-week-old really need to go to a holiday parade?

If Mama had remembered the Golden Rule, she would have realized that her baby, no matter how sweet and beautiful, was going to disturb people. In fact, it is likely that she herself is not thinking of rainbows and unicorns when her baby bellows at 1 a.m.

It took me a few minutes to calm down and enjoy my lunch, but I finally did. Then, in between bites, I happened to glance over at the counter where customers ordered and picked out chips, drinks and cookies from display units. A mother was asking her son, about 8, what he wanted to drink. When he replied, “Water,” she plucked a bottle of Poland Spring, twisted off the cap, and handed it to him to drink.

Before paying for it.

Oh, my head. Wasn’t the squalling baby enough torment for one day? I loathe to see people drinking or eating anything in a store or restaurant before they pay for the item. It’s disgusting. What, you can’t wait 30 seconds instead of handing a bottle with mouth germs all over it to the cashier? As for people who give their kids cookies or fruit they pilfer as they grocery shop — no, I mustn’t get started.

I’d just better start staying home more. It’s a moral jungle out there.

Liz Soares welcomes email at lsoares@gwi.net.

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