Nicely Done, Ramona

 

    It rained all night.  Then it rained all day.  The sky was low and grey in the forest, with clouds so descended that they caught the very tips of the mighty Douglas firs in their wispy embrace.

    Water dripped from those very trees. It was a drizzly day. The crows complained from time to time, adding to the air of mystery there. Such days in the Baker National Forest have a kind of closed off quality. The world says, “shhhh..” And “come back later, some other day!”
    Now, Twigg was born pretty much weather proof. That fur sheds water and has a nice downy undercoat which keeps our cryptid family members warm and dry next to the skin.
    But the mood of the day kept him in the cave. To tell the truth he was pestering Ramona.
    This was a sure sign to Ramona to start a lesson of some kind. A busy boy is a boy who does not climb up your back fur and jump off your shoulders while shouting.
    In addition to all of that one must say that one pities anyone learning English. Perhaps the spoken form isn’t as hard to manage as the written form? Pity poor Twigg! He’s brought this on himself.
    “Twigg, come here,” said Ramona to the scampering fellow.
    “What, mama,” said Twigg from behind the big bed.
    “Can you tell me something about what kind of day we are having,” asked his patient mother.
    “It’s a nice day! Nice! Nice! Nice!” chanted Twigg.
    Now, Ramona is nothing if not a bit pedantic. She thought this over.
    “Ah, yes indeed, son, but do you know what nice really means? It is a word that has changed a lot over the years. First it meant one thing, then another, then it changed, again and again,” she said.
    “It means good,” said her son, looking at her rather quizzically.
    “Well, long ago in another land, it meant simple, or foolish. Are we having a foolish day Twigg?”
    Twigg giggled.
    “Later, it meant timid. Timid means easily frightened Twigg. Not the kind of day we are having at all!” said Ramona, who had never had a timid moment in her life.
    Twigg thought this word stuff was not relevant to his life, but wisely attended to her words anyhow.
    “It changed several times more. For a long time, it meant careful, then precise, and at last it changed to meaning kind, son,” said Ramona.
    “Sometimes words change until they are just a friendly sound. Nice is like that.
    “So, when you say we are having a nice day, Twigg, what do you really mean? Think about it. What is there about this day that you would like to say?”
    “Mama, I would like to say that it is a good day. I like it. I would like to go outside now. I like rain. I like the sound of it dripping. I like how it looks all dark,” said Twigg.
    “Yes, that is a very good idea Twigg. You go play and have a nice time!” He looked back at her oddly but headed right out of the door.
    Ramona stood at the doorway of the cave, watching her son scramble off to find his father who was probably out at his famous log holding court with some animals who needed a decision made or some such.
    Ramona apparently has depths unknown until now!

nice (adj.)

late 13c., "foolish, ignorant, frivolous, senseless," from Old French nice (12c.) "careless, clumsy; weak; poor, needy; simple, stupid, silly, foolish," from Latin nescius "ignorant, unaware," literally "not-knowing," from ne- "not" (from PIE root *ne- "not") + stem of scire "to know" (see science). "The sense development has been extraordinary, even for an adj." [Weekley] — from "timid, faint-hearted" (pre-1300); to "fussy, fastidious" (late 14c.); to "dainty, delicate" (c. 1400); to "precise, careful" (1500s, preserved in such terms as a nice distinction and nice and early); to "agreeable, delightful" (1769); to "kind, thoughtful" (1830).

By 1926, it was said to be "too great a favorite with the ladies, who have charmed out of it all its individuality and converted it into a mere diffuser of vague and mild agreeableness." [Fowler]