Antanagoge

Antanagoge (an’-ta-na’-go-gee): Putting a positive spin on something that is nevertheless acknowledged to be negative or difficult.

The most insane spin I ever heard on a bad situation was when my mother was burned over eighty percent of her body. It was my high school graduation party. She was sticking a lit tiki torch in the ground in the back yard when the cap popped off the fuel reservoir and doused her in kerosine, and she caught on fire. My party was cancelled and I was really disappointed, but I knew Mom didn’t do it on purpose, so I harbored no anger

She was in a coma for a week. When she woke up she said, “It’s going to be a long road to recovery, but look at all the weight I’ve lost.” She held up her arm. It used to have a swinging fat roll under it. It was gone, along with at least five pounds. She said, “It was charred so they just snipped it off and stitched it up.”

This was a spinner’s spin! Being grateful for losing weight as a consequence of being a burn victim clearly indicates the value attributed to losing weight in American culture.”I had to have both legs amputated, but by God, I lost fifty pounds.” “I had to have a cinder block implanted in my stomach to kill my appetite, but I lost 30 pounds in a month!” “I have a tapeworm, and the pounds are melting away. His name is ‘Skippy’ because he makes me skip meals.”

Anyway, my mother recovered and is now receiving plastic surgery treatments. She’s having her legs skinned and the skin applied to her face. She knows she’s doomed to wearing pants to cover her legs, but she says “At least I’m getting my face back and I’ll be able to go shopping again without grossing out my fellow shoppers.” Her sensitivity to the sensibilities of her fellow shoppers is admirable.

The worst situation I’ve ever been in was not being able to find a matching sock. It was partially my fault because I just stuffed my socks in my sock drawer without sorting them out. I had a job interview downtown in one hour. I dumped my sock drawer on the floor. I ripped though them, but nothing matched. Then I realized my little brother he played one of his brotherly pranks on me. At least I had socks to wear. Good warm socks. I was blessed. I was sure I would be challenged at the job interview for wearing mismatched socks.

I pulled on my Smokey the Bear sock and my blue, yellow, and red-striped sock. I barely made it to the interview. The first question was “Why are you wearing mismatched socks?” I told him my brother had played a prank on me. We both laughed. He stuck his feet out from under his desk. His socks were mismatched too. “My daughter,” he said.

Needless to say, I got the job. I thanked my brother for mixing up my socks. His next trick was to put a live garden snake in my underwear drawer.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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