Florida Pier : writings and about       /       jmcvey.net

Runaway Names, Etc.
“The Gentler View,” Harper’s Weekly (September 4, 1909) : 29
U Michigan copy/scan (via hathitrust) : link
archive.org : link
 

      It is not at all that one blames people for trying to remember a balking name, neither does one blame them for having measles. One only expects them to isolate themselves with altruistic despatch and expects it quite as much when they have forgotten a word as when they have contracted a disease. Certain lapses of memory are diseases and of a dangerously contagious nature. If any one finds himself unable to recall the name of the woman in the blue plaid who did a form of embroidery
wikipediadrawn-work coming through the Simplon pass, and afterward conferred her card as though she were knighting the recipient, the forgetfulness of this enchanting creature’s name should be wrestled with in the privacy of one’s own room. Why, when all the horrors of almost getting, yet painfully missing, it are upon one, is it considered permissible to inoculate the rest of the family with the dread complaint? Lock yourself in if you know that for hours to come the skittish name of that wretched woman is going to hold you in its thrall. Do not, as you value your popularity, allow yourself to go about loose, upsetting the peace and happiness of every one you meet, until a once-sane and well-balanced family goes around bumping into furniture, abandoning engrossing books, sitting idle at their work, interrupting themselves with a wildly gleaming eye and, “It wasn’t Dimple, was it? No, no, of course not.” The person who leans toward Dimple is not in the least sympathized with. Every one else disclaims Dimple hotly. It may have been Whimple or Dapper, but never Dimple. Was it — no, only for a second Hamper struck familiarly on the ear. Hamper is sneered at impatiently and its adherent apologizes. Under lips are held ruminatingly and heads shake away discarded names even when lights are out and untroubled folk are sleeping peaceably.
      Not that the name is of the least importance; no one for a moment pretends that it is. It is sincerely trusted by all that the woman in the blue plaid will never be encountered again. She is nothing to any one, only it is so distressing not to be able to remember her silly name. With an awful start some one shrieks, Damper. The assembled nerves are by now so taut that every one jumps and the reaction from Damper is wholly painful. With an awful start some one shrieks, Damper. The assembled nerves are by now so taut that every one jumps and the reaction from Damper is wholly painful. Damper — the disappointment of it is a thing that strikes near home. It does seem that any one might have refuted Damper by himself instead of raising false hopes on such slight provocation. A mental wanness is finally brought about and haggard eyes plead for mercy. Then quite flatly, bringing a sheepish smirk to every face, the name is recalled distinctly — why, of course, Dabner. Yet on second thought didn’t it, after all, contain an “I”? Da — Ah it will come in a minute, though just at present it is temporarily entangled with one’s tongue.

      A fire in the house is always startling and at times it is much more, but when it confines itself to a pair of curtains or conceals itself up a flue and damages nothing but one’s day, then the fire is the smallest part of the catastrophe. It is the talk that follows after which really proves upsetting. It hangs on for days, long after every trace of the fire has been removed the fire is the smallest part of the catastrophe. It is the talk that follows after which really proves upsetting. It hangs on for days, long after every trace of the fire has been removed, and finally brings one to the conviction that though many things are surrounded in mystery, fires are not among the list. The smoke has hardly subsided before every one in any way connected with the incident begins at a gallop to tell his or her exact feeling, location, and fear at the instant when “Fire!” was first heard. Each breathlessly talks down his neighbor, and out of the hubbub rises: “I was standing by the window when I first heard it and I supposed it came from the street. Then when Ann called the second time I dropped the soap and —” “My first thought was the alcohol-lamp.” “I was going up the stairs at the time and I had just stopped on the first landing to fasten my slipper, when —” “I” corrected from “It” “I went straight to my knees; I almost sat right down on the floor; I remember distinctly thinking this will make my fourth faint.” “Oh, I felt it much worse in my head than any other place; a pain shot through my temples and I decided that if I had to jump from the window I would make a try for landing on father’s syringa.”
      This sort of thing goes on until you feel that never before have you known so much of the whereabouts of your family. Their graphically detailed picture overpowers you. The fire sinks into insignificance beside the fervid interest with which the parlor maid explains that she had been on the point of lighting the lamp but had postponed it to pick up a pin from the floor, and, holding, as she was, a match in her hand, even though an unlighted one, somehow got the idea that she had started the fire herself. All these hectic recitals must be listened to, and presently one knows the most intricate process of mind on the part of the most humble member of the household. People discard their own version and choose another’s as offering more conversational possibilities. At last when the fire has been done with a thoroughness denied everything else in life, it is forgotten, but forgotten comfortably. Gradually the excitement simmers down, to be revived by the entry of some tactful person who was out of town at the time. It is all gone over for their benefit, and fresh numorous lights are thrown on the recitals. People discard their own version and choose another’s as offering more conversational possibilities. At last when the fire has been done with a thoroughness denied everything else in life, it is forgotten, but forgotten comfortably. The last word had been extracted from it, not an ounce of it was wasted, and silently the fire is held to have been a great success.
      It is at this point one knows fully the tragedy of fires coming to those who live alone. It seems quite likely that a hermit would be driven to communicating with his kind after such an occurrence, and as for the woman who was found crying bitterly after experiencing an earthquake in a Spanish hotel, one understands perfectly her saying, “I’m not frightened, I — I just haven't any one to tell my symptoms to.” Poor lady! she would have been justified in calling on her consul. In moments of great need great people may be approached, and as for keeping an entire catastrophe to oneself — “there ain’t no man could stan’it.”

      We poor humans do our earnest best to behave genteelly while visiting in the homes of our friends, but there come moments when we cannot help feeling that the friends fail to help us as they might. For instance, the most tactful of us cannot by any possible chance know that the grandfather of our hostess feels strongly on the matter of rose culture, or that international marriages are never mentioned in the presence of her elder brother. We have to find these rocks by the painful process of running into them. We have to find these rocks by the painful process of running into them. When all the trouble might have been saved by a set of kindly suggestions indicating the prejudices of the family and principal guests. They are of much more importance than the hours of meals. Those can be asked, they can sometimes be scented, but subjects to be avoided are more delicate matters and a warning or two is only just.
      “Mr. Blank, who takes you in to dinner on Wednesday, lost his wife last summer through an accompanied and unexpected bolt on her part.” It could be so simply arranged — just — “Neither your divorces nor your appendix is to be mentioned before my youngest daughter. Discussions on woman’s suffrage have a most deplorable effect on my husband. I forgive everything but unpunctuality and dulness. Your dinner partner for Tuesday has a game leg which makes athletics a painful topic to him. Mr. Blank, who takes you in to dinner on Wednesday, lost his wife last summer through an accompanied and unexpected bolt on her part.”
      No one will deny that these are things best not left to chance. A hasty kick under the table administered when the unfortunate subject has been opened is not at all what one wants. A timely word before leaving our room is what we must have and rightly, ruefully insist upon.
 

20261029