There is much debate about what is decent and indecent. The rules keep shifting.

In the beginning, before there were smart people around to tell us what was decent. Adam and Eve ran around in the forest naked as jaybirds. Later, religious clerics changed the rules and during the reign of Queen Victoria of England it was shameful for a woman to bare her ankles. Skin was out.

Now, we’ve come full circle and are back to the jaybird rule. Women wear short skirts and young men walk around with their pants down to their knees. Skirts are rising and pants are dropping. Gravity has gone awry.

For some reason, decency rules apply only to humans. Dogs and cats waddle around naked in front of innocent children shamelessly exposed and no one cares.

As Mark Twain wrote, “Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to.”

Decency is a major problem. Pastors have to spend entirely too much time sermonizing on the subject when they could be persuading folks to contribute more money.

Grandpa Barksdale was a pioneer in decency and moral ethics. Aside from inventing a poke sallet root potion that cured poison ivy rash, he laid down what he called the “50 yard rule.” He first espoused it on Elk River in 1950. I’m proud to say that I also played a part.

When I was 10 years old, we shared a house in Birmingham with Uncle Josh and Aunt Kathleen Barksdale, who were childless. Uncle Josh, who loved children and crappie fishing, bought a boat kit and trailer from Sears-Roebuck and assembled it in the old shanty garage behind the house.

Finally, it was ready for action.

Early one morning, we hooked the boat and trailer to his 1950 Olds and departed for Elk River. Mama had prepared boiled egg sandwiches (sliced eggs on white bread, mayo, lettuce, sliced sweet pickle, pepper and plenty of salt) and filled a gallon pickle jug with water.

We swung through East Limestone and picked up Grandpa, who was 85, and headed to Elk River for a day of crappie fishing.

The day was hot, and after eating salty egg sandwiches, I guzzled water from the pickle jug and soon I felt it. Several boats were nearby, some occupied by women.

“Uncle Josh, I gotta use the bathroom,” I said.

“Hold on a minute,” he said. Crappie were biting. Several minutes passed. “I really gotta go!”

“Just stand up ‘n the boat ‘n go,” said Grandpa.