#66 - Eulogy for The Compliment

Eulogy for The Compliment

8/5/05 (#66)

Family, friends, and those formerly favored by the deceased, we gather today with sad hearts to mourn the passing of a stalwart member of an ancient social code, the optimistic vehicle that carried the cares of a nation from member to member, whose natural beauty and grace had, in its last years, been co-opted by cynicism and selfishness, but whose spirit remained pure despite the abuses perpetuated upon it.

The Compliment, when delivered from one gender to another, was a thing of beauty: a blessing in a world of curses, a gift in a world of demands. Who among us does not recall a dreary, difficult day that was made brighter by the soft touch of a small phrase, a gentle massage upon the shoulders of our doubt? Who among us has not seen first-hand the power of this simple panacea, seen a chin uplifted as the ear caught hold of a small kindness?

There was a time when the compliment was permitted to be complimentary. Our society once allowed for uncouth, loutish conversation, a verbal directness that clearly delineated "That's a lovely dress" from "Hey, nice rack." Political correctness, despite its best intentions, removed the symptoms without curing the disease, barred sexist language without banning sexism, so the last refuge of the lecher was to borrow the courteous compliment for a thinly-veiled effort to convey a message that has nothing to do with the fabric of the dress and everything to do with the fabric of the speaker.

It seems unfair that the integrity of the compliment was so coldly compromised by those few who wielded it not with honor but ill-intent, not with generosity but with greed. Indeed, it was this broader use that stretched the compliment to its breaking point, precipitating its untimely demise. A playful new hair style, flattering new eye glass frames, a revamped physique earned by concentrated and deliberate effort---these are items worthy of pride, and positive reaction from friends and strangers is reassuring. However, when a woman hears "those are beautiful frames" from a speaker whose eyes are focused a solid 12" below the glasses, the compliment is understandably suspect; when a man hears "You're so thoughtful" while his date pushes the restaurant tab in his direction, the value of the compliment might be less than that of the meal.

The compliment went from being a note card slipped through the mail slot to a foot jammed into doorway, from an earnest invitation to conversation down to a lewd solicitation with a deceptive subject line. Worse yet, there was no antidote to its failing health, admirers left to sit by its bedside and assuage its pain with rote reassurances---"you can still be so charming and sweet "---but even the compliment couldn't take a compliment anymore, knowing that its affliction had permeated its very being, its once lustrous glow faded to pale praise fit for tacky greeting cards and auto-pilot applause for a mediocre job done. The world retains its gold stars for grade-school tests and paper plaques for office accomplishments, but these pats on the back are so slight they seem less from a healing hand than from a fleeting flash of light.

In line at the book store next to the striking ensemble, we'll no longer find you there; where beautiful brown eyes sit in the voiceless quiet of the commuter train, you shall not disturb that silence; as the barista debuts a daring coif behind the cash register, you will not delay the transaction with pleasant banter. In all of these places, and everywhere else that you chose for your genuine and generous cameos, you will be dearly missed.

In fact, you already are.

©2005 wpreagan