They are essential, but folks tend not to want to mention them by name. Euphemisms
are used in familiar company rather than using the appropriate name. Polite
company generally banishes even the surrogate words.
They are essential, but folks tend not to want to mention them by name. Euphemisms
are used in familiar company rather than using the appropriate name. Polite
company generally banishes even the surrogate words.
Even their place of residence is a sensitive matter. Water closet. Powder room.
Necessary room. Little girls room. Sensitive, indeed. Why, if you are
of true Southern heritage and politeness, you may experience chill bumps when
reading even these euphemisms.
The centerpiece of this place unspoken, except by necessity or inference, that
is located in 99.44 percent of American homes, is, well, that object polite
company banishes from conversation.
Imagine the dilemma when at about the same time both of ours needed replacing.
The first one was removed. It was singular in construction, and as heavy and
awkward aswell, it was heavy and awkward. Only a significant struggle
got it out through the door onto the carport. The next phase was to lug it out
to the median of the street. But wives are sensitive souls and the one at our
house did not want “it” sitting out in the street until the city trash
collectors decided to drop by for a pick up. Actually, I thought “it”
was quite attractive in color and style.
For several days, it sat fairly near the door, on the carport. Until we received
word weekend company was coming.
“Do you think it is a good idea to have that sitting near the door on
the carport when they get here?” she asked? It was not a question.
Being submissive, as commanded in Ephesians 5:21, I moved “it” to
the median.
“Do you really think it should sit there until goodness knows
when?” she asked sweetly.
That had been my intent. It was some 40 yards from the closest door to our
house. “Everyone has one. Everyone sees them in the store. They talk about
cleaning them on television. What is the problem with one sitting in the median
where the city tells us to put our garbage? Would you like for me to plant flowers
in it, like the one we saw in Arkansas? There is no place to which I can haul
it.”
“Do you think you could do something about it, today?” She smiled
sweetly again.
Necessity is the mother of creativity. Two black plastic bags tied over it
– one over the upper unit, one over the lower part of the unit – worked
well. Is there any way to know of the ensuing chuckles of our neighbors who
had seen “it” sitting on the median before it was black bagged to
mask its reality?
Our guests, being polite folks, never asked about “it.” A brief 10
days later, the appropriate city truck rolled by. One can only imagine what
they thought when they pealed back the black bags to see what they were going
to have to hoist into the truck.
This all led to thinking about things in our lives we are embarrassed about,
and all the things we do to cover them up, to keep them from appearing to be
what they are. We misname them, use euphemisms, substitute less offensive wordsyou
name it. But they are still what they are. When dealing with destructive
especially sinful incidents and actions, covering them up and calling
them by less offensive names just keep us from dealing with them appropriately.
The plastic bags need to be removed and honest admission undertaken. That is
where repentance begins, and that can lead to forgiveness and healing.
The surgery removing the second “it” was conducted after darkness
fell around the house. In the midnight hour, “it” was placed on the
median, and immediately covered with a large cardboard box that originally contained
paper towels. That was not the first giant size cardboard box brought home for
that purpose, but the first one was deemed “inappropriate.”