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| No News from Doodlebug Island
by William F. JordanMy friend, Reginald Waltshire, will likely disapprove my reference to his recent wedding to Penelope Brooks as a neat affair, but the community of Doodlebug Island so regards it, and with their approbation, neat it is! Penelope, prior to her marriage, was a fifty-one year old spinster who had never quite given up hope for connubial bliss with someone who could overlook her plainness and who would appreciate her kindness of heart and wondrous capability to maintain an orderly home.
Reginald, on the other hand, is a twice-married, scholarly gentleman from England much given to loquacious expression, deriving, it may be surmised, from his former employment with Oxford English Dictionary people. In fact, it was the financially disastrous aftermath of his second marriage that drove him from his homeland and carried him to the shores of our fair Island where, despite his slovenly housekeeping and untidy appearance, he has gained respite from his creditors and a decent living as a free-lance writer.
Now, the ‘neatness’ mentioned above results from the change in each principal. Penelope has “blossomed”, for lack of a better description. She radiates a contentment new to her and heartwarming to the rest of us. And the nature of her conversation has changed. Nowadays, she seldom if ever uses the pronoun ‘I’ except in the second position, but has adopted the liberal use of the possessive ‘My’ always followed by ‘husband’ or ‘Reginald’; and the words rather roll around in her mouth as if they are being freighted with sentient contemplation, and savored before being lovingly released to the world. “My husband,” “My Reginald,” “My husband Reginald and I,” and always expressed with a smile of happy satisfaction that permeates the air around her. Too, she has gone from the reluctant invitee to dinners and parties announced by other Island residents to hosting an absolute blizzard of such events in her new home. There she presides with a new warmth and assuredness no one would have expected. And, most profoundly surprising of all is her departure from the drab, uncomely appearance of the past. There is now about her a subtle hint of beauty that wasn't there before. It is as if a rose has opened before us, discarding those tattered outside petals to reveal an inner core of sensuousness and refinement.
For his part, Reginald has shaped up in both appearance and habit, probably due to the presence of someone who sees to both. But since affability and a gregarious good nature were traits common to him before he married Penelope, no one looked for him to change. And indeed he has exhibited none. That is, apart from those things mentioned and an open-handed regard for his new bride. Actually, there was one change community members hoped for, and that relates to Reginald’s penchant for using multi-syllabic words whose meanings seem as obscure as String Theory. It’s obvious his training in lexicography and his work on the Oxford English Dictionary have ruined him for common, everyday speech, for if he wishes to so much as compliment someone’s pocket handkerchief, he might do so in this manner: “Ah, what a most delightful kerchief of pleasance!”
One day he said, “I see you are unshaven and therefore remain hispid.” “I do,” I replied, “I allow my bristly face hair to remain uncut once a week! Still, I consider your remark an unfeeling urticant.” His expression became one of concern. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t intend my remark to sting. It was not my intent to be diversivolent.” I assured him I knew he wasn’t looking for trouble, that I was merely suffering from a flagitious headache and that I knew he wasn’t guilty of a subderisorious remark.”
It was then I realized the difference between us. The larger, fancier words are in my vocabulary, but for him they are his vocabulary! Words whether big or small are communicative ends, and his affinity for one is no different from that of the other. It dawned on me that it was I and the majority of society who set up artificial standards regarding word choice and impose a sort of bourgeois acceptance level with respect to their use. The awareness came as a jolt.
Readers will want to know that nothing written about them will offend the couple. They are on a six-month delayed honeymoon so might never find out. But even if they do, the piece has achieved a certain kalokagathia, wouldn’t you agree?
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