By Jarret Liotta

WESTPORT — There are few visceral pleasures I enjoy more in life than lying on my couch in the late-afternoon sun with a hot tea and my Penny Dell Math & Logic puzzle magazine, listening to an actual LP of Dean Martin’s “A Winter Romance.”

Yet, thanks to two members of the younger generation with whom I co-habitate intermittently — a.k.a. The Boy and The Girl — I can no longer hear “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” without their skeptical voices in my head pointing out that the Frank Loesser song is somewhat “cringy” and “cringe-worthy.”

Times A-Changin’, etc.

As I’ve shared before — and on the surface it’s a remarkably unremarkable observation — the world is a rapidly changing place, especially where culture is concerned. In particular, the place that many cultural icons do, should or shouldn’t hold — be they people, personalities, or works of creation — is an odd and evolving matter of deep contemplation to me … and should be to all of us.

It’s easy to argue we shouldn’t be honoring a particular historic figure once realities about their life come to light. For instance, if some previously revered world explorer from 500 years ago is found to have been a savage thug who committed whatever atrocities, it’s understandable that we shouldn’t continue to canonize them.

Records A-Straightenin’, etc.

(Some might argue that it becomes “cancellation” or what have you, but depending on the exuberance with which they were publicly aggrandized, it’s important to restore a balance to that interpretation to — simply put — keep the records straight.)

Likewise, it may be relatively easy to personally boycott a piece of writing that was crafted for the direct purpose of celebrating some distasteful bit of society … or to avoid a movie, for instance, with some actor the public has learned participated in some heinous behaviors of one kind or another, if only because we don’t want to give them any money for their efforts and we’re fine living without their completed product.

But where do we — or more importantly, where do I — draw the line in defining “cringy” — and what even follows after I do?

Changin’ Ernest?

With an historic penchant for rereading books over and over again, this week I picked up Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises to take an early spring visit to 1925 Paris and do some fishing on the Irati River in Spain. While I know the book well —including the bogus bashing of character Robert Cohn for being “so superior and Jewish,” and the flagrant, flat use of the N word to describe a black boxer — it’s been interesting for me to observe how many cringes it’s drawing out of me this time around.

That said, the last thing I would be is a book burner. And even while I find some of the writing outrageous and ridiculous for its sometimes unnecessarily harsh words and tone, I wouldn’t want to change it or rewrite a word.

I wouldn’t defend Hemingway one way or another — I honestly don’t even think he’s really that great a writer — but what makes this interesting is it has me looking at what I’m finding worth a cringe, versus what I’m moved to forgive, accept and perhaps even defend.

Et Tu, Groucho?!

As a product of my time, it’s not only understandable but logical that I would perceive my world — and the culture that constitutes it — through the lens that was ground in my time. 

At the same time I can recognize that, even though I adore the Marx Brothers more than most people I know — meaning I’d much rather be spending my time with Groucho and Harpo than any of my living friends — the Deep South number in “A Day at the Races” is worth 50 shades of cringing at least.

So where does that leave Dino, me, and my time on the couch?

HEAR Here!

If I knew, I’d tell you! I still like the song and intend to keep listening, but I also outright refuse to simply blindly defend its wording because it’s culturally ensconced, or because it’s classic and sacrosanct (or we “shouldn’t make such a big deal” about such things).

I see my kids’ point and I’m grateful I can see and understand it. I think that’s perhaps the most important aspect of this whole journey into cultural evolution and change — simple acknowledgement and a forthright recognition.

Heard through the ears of my children — or perhaps someone else’s, whoever, wherever they may be — I can see how it might seem cringe-worthy.

I can just honor and understand that, period.

I can acknowledge its “cringe-worthiness” without feeling threatened by “cancellation” or whatever …

And I can still enjoy the song!

Ain’t that a kick in the head! 😉

.