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The Newsletter >
The Dignity of Man - Not
December 22, 2009
Human beings are born in goo, go out of this life in gunk, and in between there’s a lot of body fluids, and anybody that prattles on about the dignity of man is probably planning to pull the plug on your respirator. Since when is life dignified?
Our oldest daughter and her husband are welcoming their fourth child this summer—it will be a joyous, exciting, and thrilling event—but dignified it will not be.
Recently she started the baby welcoming process by taking Zoe (aged 5), Conner (aged 3), and Kip (aged 1) to the lab with her to start her lab work, not realizing that she’d have to drag the three children into the waiting room bathroom with her when she “produced a urine sample.” She reported the following “dignified” conversation.
Conner, at the top of his lungs, yelled, “Hey why are you peeing in that cup, mom? That’s ba-sgusting!”
Laughter rolled through the waiting room, squeaking under the crack in the door.
“Hey, mom I can see your penis.” Heather tried to pee in the cup and hush the loudmouth at the same time.
Kip, fascinated with the bathroom acoustics, began experimenting with screaming. Zoe tried to hush both of her brothers.
“Mom, why are peeing in that cup? Why?” Conner, never one to be derailed from a subject, continued shouting, “Yucky, I’m not drinking that pee.”
Laughter wafted through the keyhole from the waiting room into the bathroom. Our daughter, giving up any fantasy of dignity, led her mouthy group across the lobby, carrying her own pee-pee in a cup.
To celebrate the Thanksgiving season our daughter, our daughter-in-law, Sarah, and their friend, Jennie, decided to help their children build a facsimile of a Native American t-pee in my backyard out of bamboo poles and paper bags. It was adorable.
The children drew crayon buffalo and stick figures on the t-pee. When the structure was assembled, the children (Emma, Zoe, Cameron, and Conner) crawled excitedly inside. They were adorable. Pictures were taken. Their mommies congratulated themselves on teaching their children Native American dignity and respect for diversity.
Conner immediately crawled to the opening of the t-pee, pulled his britches down, and whizzed. His cousin, Emma crawled through the resulting Conner puddle, soaking her pants from knee to ankle. Her mother was horrified. Dignity evaporated.
Later, Conner’s mommy, exhausted from t-pee making and pregnancy, observed, “Sarah thinks she wants a boy.” Heather paused. “She doesn’t.”
Conner’s yell echoed through the house, “Mom, come wipe my butt.”
Dignity is a myth, and it’s a pretty safe bet that anyone yabbing on about the dignity of mankind is 1) a lawyer 2) a politician, or 3) somebody looking to inherit.
I say the sooner we abandon dignity, the sooner we’ll be able to laugh at—well, just about everything. Have a dignity free week.
Linda (burpsnottoot) Zern
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