James Morris Bagby

On April 18th, 2013, I lost the man I've loved the longest.  My dad finally closed his eyes for the last after a two-and-a-half year cojourn with a bone marrow disease that he led bravely and whimsically.  I wrote this blog entry months ago, but never got around to publishing it.  Now I offer it is a small tribute to a majestic man.

 

March 16^th 2012 my sweet baby boy entered the world.  He’s changed our lives in perfect ways.  But he has also kept me away from my blog posts.  I reenter the blogosphere with a loving hurrah to my father that has spun in my heart for the past few months…..

Hyacinth Bucket – pronounced “bouquet” – devotes her every breath to “keeping up appearances”.  In the BBC sitcom so named, Hyacinth mentally dwells amongst Britain’s finest and struggles aptly to represent herself as such in her squarely middle class surroundings.  In one particular episode she has gathered brochures for expensive vacations in order to flaunt them ceremoniously, though the trips will not likely come to fruition.  She lays the brochures in plain view for her neighbor, Elizabeth, to see.  She says, “I want Elizabeth to spot the brochures immediately when I fetch her in for coffee.”  In another ploy, she exclaims, “Oh, dear!  I’m afraid Richard was driving so fast, my holiday brochures blew out of the window!  Have you seen my holiday brochures?  You can’t miss them.  There’s one about the Orient Express, and the other’s cruising on the QE2 [Queen Elizabeth 2].  Ohhh!  There they are!  Not a scratch or a crease.  It certainly pays to go for the best.”

This sitcom is one of my dad’s favorites.  I find this endearing and wonderful.  You see, my father is one of the most sincerely dignified men I’ve ever met.  He embodies social graces for the sake of bestowing comfort on those around him.  Social rules exist so that people can have shared expectations for social situations.  He once explained to me that wicks on new candles should always be immediately lit so as not to display their new whiteness.  Unlike Hyacinth Bucket, this nicety is to avoid ostentatiously flaunting the newness of a taper.  But even more interesting to me was the second part of this lesson on candle etiquette.  Say I enter the home of someone who left her or his candle wicks unburned.  The next time said person is a guest in my home I should replace all my candles with new ones bearing their white wicks, left unburned.  This is because the comfort of that person and the hospitality I extend to her or him supersedes all else.

My dad told me bedtime stories when I was a young girl.  They often featured the loveable protagonist Lady Swan.  Lady Swan was perpetually planning lovely events for her friends.  Teas, parties, sweet get-togethers aimed at treating her guests to elegant yet simple hospitality and delectable food.  Each party, however, was interrupted by the rude Miss Pig.  Through these adorable quips, Dad educated us on proper social behavior while fostering the closeness that comes through bedtime rituals.

These memories bring me back to dear Hyacinth.  I’ve watched this show with my dad and laughed myself to tears partially at her ridiculous endeavors, but even more so at my dad overcome by hilarity.  I love that this Anglophile man embodies all the graces expected of the most distinguished Southern gentleman, but can also laugh at these graces taken to an exaggerated extreme.  I love and am so grateful for this man of balance, allowing his care for people to supplant all else.