handkerchief

handkerchief |ˈhaŋkətʃɪf|noun (pl.handkerchiefs or handkerchieves |-tʃiːvz| )a square of cotton or other finely woven material intended for wiping one's nose.ORIGIN mid 16th cent.: from hand + kerchief.

kerchief |ˈkəːtʃɪf|nouna piece of fabric used to cover the head.• literary a handkerchief.DERIVATIVESkerchiefed adjectiveORIGIN Middle English kerchef, from Old French cuevrechief, from couvrir ‘to cover’ + chief ‘head’.

I’m so old I can remember when I owned handkerchiefs, real ones, finely woven material intended for wiping one’s nose. I had an aunt who used to give me a couple for Christmas every year, good ones, not as big as my father’s and not monogrammed like his, but more colourful. I used mine for lots of activities besides wiping my nose.  In those days before Bic pens I used them to wipe my leaking, so-called fountain pens. They were also useful for wiping shoes, faster than polishing. I never stuffed them in my blouse though I knew some girls who did. I used oranges instead, but just for dress-up. I wonder when Kleenex was invented…

Kleenex was the first Western facial tissue, introduced in 1924 and originally marketed as a way to remove cold cream or makeup (it had been in use for centuries before in Japan; see History of facial tissue for details). Wikipedia

I never used to call it facial tissue, but people do now because there are a lot of different ones on the market. The word Kleenex is a registered brand name.  It’s close to being a generic term but not quite. I never could say hanky; that seemed too cutesy, like panties and bra.  I hate the nicknames. 

An aside: a thong used to be a kind of sandal but it’s a kind of lingerie now- smaller than a bikini. What I used to call thongs are now flip-flops. It’s hard to keep ahead of these things.

A few years ago a very elegant close acquaintance gave me a very elegant handkerchief to thank me for something I had done for her.  It came in its own special little square, flat box,  enfolded in tissue paper and it was embroidered with a flower in one corner,  white on white.  I didn’t dare wipe my Bic on it let alone my nose. I still have it somewhere.  I guess the Queen owns and uses handkerchiefs like that. I remember reading about some of the purveyors of fine luxury items to the monarch who get to claim they are the official suppliers of whatever item they sell, like Yardley’s - I remember that name - and others. I wonder if they offer the Queen a discount. A few weeks ago I was unable to get to the bank before I totally ran out of cash and I didn’t have any subway tickets. I searched through the pockets of various jackets and coats looking for spare change. I didn’t find any coins. It turned out that a single fare wouldn’t do when I told my plight to the transit clerk. You have to buy a bundle, or now -  a Presto, I think it’s called (I used Senior tickets). He let me through and told me to pay double the next time, which I did. Well, there were no coins in my pockets but boy, did I have a collection of Kleenex/facial tissue. I guess that goes back to some reflex action rooted in time, when I tucked a tissue, a lipstick and a dollar - “mad money” - into a pocket before leaving the house. Those were in my carefree days when I didn’t need keys, ID, or glasses, or, or, or (driver’s license, credit cards,  notebook, Bic or the equivalent, etc.).

I bet the Queen doesn’t stuff her ubiquitous handbag with all that.  One ladylike handkerchief will do. 

Ai me.

reality bites

July 26

Yammering on about words and grammar seems callous, careless and stupid in the light of all that is happening in the world. More deaths, more attacks, more brutality, certainly you are all aware of what is going on, not to mention the political chaos in the United States. 

“Man's hope is his capacity for irrelevance.”

I picked up that line from a novel by Aldous Huxley, can’t remember which one, didn't write it down, not in those days. (I was seventeen, taking a novel course in third year university, not too careful.)  I guess i’m trying to offer hope with my irrelevant prattle.  Right now I’m grateful for it, for prattle.  You get bits of news from the world of science or nature, discoveries of some hitherto unknown species or star that add to our knowledge of the universe.  A discovery is comforting but most reassuring are the confidence and dedication of the discoverers.  They are so focussed. It’s the rest of the world that is irrelevant.

On Sunday, March 8, 1941, Virginia Woolf wrote: “Haddock and sausage meat. I think it is true that one gains a certain hold on sausage and haddock by writing them down”.  They gave her a hold on reality and I get that. I grasp reality every week when I write down a grocery list. But you see, the list is irrelevant. That’s the point.  What have sausage and haddock to do with terrorist threats?  A lot, of course, if the threat becomes a reality and it is impossible to get sausage and haddock, food, that is, to feed one’s family.  I think I just contradicted myself.  I should stick to easy questions like how to pronounce niche. 

I’m sure you understand what I’m trying to say.  Every news program on TV concludes with a slice of human interest, some bizarre event that has gone viral, something to ease the anxiety over the daily horrendous news, something  that provides some brief respite, in short, something irrelevant.

I sent this yesterday, July 26, but it didn't arrive so I'm posting it again.  I'll be back.