You’re Welcome

...and replies to other requests I might have by saying,
"My pleasure," and not the ubiquitous and hostile
service-industry rejoinder, "No problem."
                                             Guy Trebay, New York Times

Among the trends in today's vernacular American English is the substitution of various phrases for the polite and genteel “you’re welcome.”   I was always taught that “you’re welcome” follows and compliments a “thank you.”   It is an assuring phrase that lets the other speaker know that his “thank you” has been graciously accepted.    

Today, frequently in social situations or on television after a speaker is thanked, he responds—not with “you’re welcome”—but with “no problem” or the aggressively annoying “you bet!” (most commonly heard in the western states—I bet what?) or even, often uneasily, with  another “thank you.”  When the check-out person, waiter, or bank teller, says “no problem” to my “thank you,” I’m confused.  It better not be a problem, I think, especially if I am going to tip you 15 percent or come back into this place again.  "No problem" has a superior ring to it.   Sort of like announcing, "Hey, I'm doing you a favor. But don't worry, it's not a problem."  And do I really need to thank someone back who has just said “thank you” to me?   No, I don’t.  ”You're welcome," on the other hand, distinguishes the server from the served by acknowledging, "It was my pleasure to serve to you…or do you a favor."    You are welcome to the kindness or the service that I offer.

The French have the neutral “de rien,” the Spanish “da nada”—it’s nothing.   I prefer the Italian “prego,” a hospitable “you’re welcome.”  I am not so sure about the “bukeqi” (“don’t be polite”) that the Chinese always scream back to you immediately after you say “xie xie” (thank you) (Can’t I be polite if I want to?).    The upper class British “not at all” is a little too much, as is “don’t mention it” and “don’t worry about it” (I’m not worrying about it, I am just thanking you, I think).  The French “avec plaisir” and our “with pleasure” or “my pleasure” are nice but probably not always spoken in truth.   I can live with the friendly Australian “no worries, mate,” which is universal down under.  But there is something about responding to a “thank you” with a nice “you’re welcome”—politeness without condescension--something these other phrases just don’t have.

Tales of Brave Ulysses

Ulysses is the principal character of "The Odyssey," the Homeric epic and early travelogue.   This long poem was written in verse and was memorized as part of the curriculum of young Greek students.   It has been translated into many languages and has received centuries of literary criticism and explication (one line of thought followed that Homer was actually a woman). 

Modern works in the Homeric tradition of Ulysses include "Ulysses" and "Finnegan's Wake," both by James Joyce (I once met a professor who was putting the words of "Finnegan's Wake" to music--James Joyce was a skilled musician).   The best and simplest "Ulysses" of modern times, however, in my opinion, is the poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 

In the poem, the old traveler is not content with a life of reflection on the deeds of his past:

I cannot rest from travel:  I will
Drink life to the lees:...

And reflects:

...all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, ...

The more you know, the more you realize how little you know.   The more you travel, the more you realize what lies unseen.

And:

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

And, as John F. Kennedy quoted in his inaugural address:

                               ...Come, my friends,
"Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Tennyson was only 24 years old in 1833 when he wrote this incredible poem.   "Ulysses" is the ultimate anthem for the perpetual traveler, the scientist, and those whose lives must include daily discoveries of some thing or some place new.

Take the Lively Air

From "The Waking" by Theodore Roethke (American poet 1908-1963):

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow,
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling.  What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

                                 ...

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.


In my opinion, one of the best American poems of the twentieth century.

Great Nature does have another thing to do to you and me, so we must take the lively air and seize the day.    Thus begins my blog of short essays on poetry, words, literature, travel, and life.  

More to come.