Ivory Soap

More of Wilbur's so-called furnishings were going to be re-possessed today. There was nothing to be done about that. He decided to concentrate on things that were still under his control. They were not going to dismantle his toilet and tub. He decided to take a bath, and prove once again that he could stay calm in the face of adversity. He found, to his elation, a bar of Ivory soap, still in its paper wrapper, in his towel cabinet. He recalled his special fondness for the Ivory soap brand, dating back to early childhood. The word Ivory seemed chiselled into the perfectly sized rectangular block of cunningly disguised fats and oils, like an imperial message, addressed to you personally. "Cleanse with my blessings," it advised. As the bar eventually shrunk in size and beauty, the word Ivory reluctantly disappeared from view. It was like the prince falling on hard times and turning into a pauper, becoming anonymous, just one of the crowd of forlorn, skimpy soap remnants. But the next bar that was opened up would restore the monarch (you, by extension) to the throne. Wilbur learned over time that the ivory trade was full of evil associations. He should mourn the brutal abuse of elephant tusks and imperialist looting. It was also worth mourning the long-time employment of ivory for piano keys. The grinding up of bones to make pure melody. And was there not something excessively, arrogantly white in the demeanour of this royal aid to cleanliness? Having reviewed this smattering of adult facts, Wilbur still received a tingle of pleasure from the Ivory imprint, fresh and persistent, after all the scandals and failings. Are our names our essence? Do they tote around our frail hope of dignity? Could he detect a sigh of resignation in the imprint after so many years of bold, confident assertion? Wilbur was by now fully submerged in the tub's warm water. Maybe he could go all the way under, hold his breath for a while, and come to the surface a new person, free of history, taint and rancour. The soap bar slipped out of Wilbur's hand, and he had a difficult time finding it under the suds he had added. He seemed to remember that the difference that had once made Ivory soap celebrated was its amazing ability to float.