Of all the Sad Words of Tongue or Pen

John Greenleaf Whittier said it. With a name like that, the kid was pretty much obligated to grow up to be a poet. And these are the words for which he is best remembered, probably because they are both true and beautifully said.

Of all the sad words of tongue or pen,

The saddest are these: It might have been.

Like the sentence invented for the eastern monarch in the oft-quoted parable, the sentence that would be true whenever it was spoken and under any circumstances, the sentence that reads: "And this, too, shall pass away." Yes, it's like that, because it's a phrase that one might apply to anything which didn't work out the way we'd planned. Love affairs, friendships, jobs, careers, financial plans, political aspirations, artistic endeavors - all and any of it. It might have been. The words that often go with such an emotion are these: "If only..." If only I'd tried a little harder on that one occasion. If only I'd been a little more mature. If only I hadn't been so insistent. If only I'd been a little better prepared. If only I had seen things as clearly then as I do now.

Tonight I don't desire to talk about the many, many words of my pen. They have been numerous, possibly too numerous. My tongue, too, has been overworked in this life. Anyone will tell you so. It's time for it to have a rest. And like many a workaholic, my tongue had to be injured to get any time off.

I often bit the inside of my cheek or the inside of my lip or my tongue. This trauma, I have learned in recent months, can develop into big wart-like creatures. There was one on the tip of my tongue for about 7 months until three weeks ago. Then Dr. Hopkin took it off. Discomfort was minor, recovery was swift, and I thought it was a thing of the past. But soon it became clear that it wasn't just growing back together, it was staging a come-back, rather like in Requiem for a Heavyweight. Soon the object which had once been an annoyance the size of a small garden pea was the size of a cat's eye marble and still growing.

So yesterday, at about 9:30 am, my oral surgeon, a young fellow named Holme who has great knowledge and looks like a deacon, surgically removed it and much of the tissue surrounding it, anxious to send it to the lab to find out whether it was cancerous, benign, or just plain weird. But I have been in some considerable pain since this procedure. They assured me that the tongue would grow back. Apparenty it's the only member of the body that does that. I look forward to having all of my tongue again. I can't roll my Rs. All my hard consonants sound like they're being attempted by a foreigner who attends ESL classes while moving slowly and in a drunken stupor. Pride is a terrible thing. I have always taken a great deal of pride in my careful enunciation. Now I sound like Ozzie Osbourne in those commercials where he has to text message literally everything he says so that people will get a clue about what he's saying.

And eating! I long to bite into something hard and crunchy again. Custard, yogurt, and applesause have their charms, but even they cause me a little pain while satisfying very little of my hunger. So please pray for my tongue. We want it to make a come-back in record time. Many thanks to one and all.