Conaway: You might want to sit down for this
Dan Conaway
Dan Conaway was a freelance columnist with The Daily Memphian from 2018 to 2025.
This column is dedicated to my readers, most especially a group commenting on last week’s column in fevered typos, alternating caps and lowercase and general spirited denigration.
They’re in a foul mood. I think I can help.
When Nora and I first got married, presents we gave each other tended to serve a practical need. You know, if we needed chairs for a kitchen table, maybe a mirror, picture frames and such.
This can sometimes suit the giver’s need far more than the recipient's.
The classic example in our case was my first birthday after we moved into our apartment in the Georgian Woods. Nora needed a breadbox. I got a breadbox for my birthday. Nicely wrapped.
Fine. Merry Christmas, Nora.
The other day, my friend Steve called a meeting of the Order of Old Farts over Coffee. It should be noted that this is different from the Order of Old Farts over Lunch — an entirely different bunch.
Steve’s morning meetings occur now and then at Whole Foods, up front by the window, near the registers, across from the four-dollars-a-cup coffee bar – no Sweet ‘n Low, only Stevia.
Stevia is a plant derivative, healthier, don’t you know. Isn’t sugar cane a plant? Have you ever noticed that places that sell things that are supposedly good for you are more expensive in order of magnitude?
But I digress.
At this meeting, I think I found Nora’s Christmas present. Don’t tell her. I want to surprise her, and I think this is going to do it.
I don’t know what inspired him to bring it up, but Steve leaned forward over the table and put both hands on it — the signal that something important was coming — and he launched.
Before he was through, before he’d answered our questions, before our voices stopped rising, before the laughter died — well, actually, the laughter never died — we had drawn the attention of all the women in exercise tights in the check-out, all the men in sweats and Skechers wandering by, I think even the barista in Birkenstocks had stopped frothing for a moment.
Steve said he’d heard about it from guys he plays golf with, eight or nine of them, in fact, who had one. These are guys I used to play golf with before my legs went south. They are not a frivolous bunch, not prone to fads.
He said they couldn’t stop talking about it. Across political and religious boundaries, they were one in their praise, united in support.
He said, pausing first, “Boys, this has changed my life.”
This soothes when it’s needed most, provides warmth when warmth is called for and cools and refreshes in an instant. It is cleansing of body and soul. Invigorating of mind and spirit.
Have you guessed yet?
Some are adjustable to as many as 10 positions. I saw one remote control with 24 buttons.
No fair telling if you know.
Some with key parts in plastic, some in stainless steel. Priced from $99 at Lowe’s, to a model I saw at $2,400, and one that I think is delivered by two armed plumbers in a Brinks truck.
I am talking, of course, about a bidet.
I am talking about no longer having to worry about getting toilet paper if it snows.
I first found out about bidets almost 40 years ago when I mistakenly sat down on one in a French hotel, and stood straight up with a scream that brought Nora in from the other room.
They are now, well, mainstream.
They have names like “Toto Washlet” and “Swash,” “PureTide” and “PureWash,” and — got to love this one — “Tushy Classic.” Luxe is in the business. Kohler is in the business.
Steve took hits from all sides but stayed firm in his defense, nothing wishy-washy about Steve.
”I’m telling you,” he said, spilling coffee, “there’s nothing like it. Nothing.” He was getting emotional, “You can get the water hot or cold, but it’s not just the water. It blows warm air – warm air, guys!”
There is a model, in fact ranked in the top five in one YouTube poll, called “Dude Wiper.”
If I’d known about that one, I could have brought the house down at Whole Foods.
One online ad urged me to join the “wash don’t wipe revolution.”
Another said, “You deserve a better bathroom experience.”
I think I do. Steve thinks I do. The woman buying avocados in line three thinks I do.
But I have to be careful.
Nora trusts no device in the bathroom that combines water and electricity at the same time. She has a point. I mean, we all saw the James Bond movie when Sean Connery fried the bad guy with a lamp in the tub
There was a Jacuzzi in our house when we moved in. Nora tore it out, firm in her belief.
Don’t worry, my dear, they make several non-electric models. My, er, your Christmas present is safe.
I’m a Memphian, and thanks, Steve.
Topics
Dan Conaway BidetsDan Conaway on demand
Never miss an article. Sign up to receive Dan Conaway's stories as they’re published.
Enter your e-mail address
Related stories
Conaway: Pauses in the flow, a city’s tragic losses
Eliza Fletcher was a measure of this city. This tiny, tiny town with such a huge, huge heart.
Conaway: At minimum, a wake-up call
At a minimum, minimum wages must go up, and employers have to start paying more attention to the welfare of those they employ.
Conaway: Davy Crockett used to track by following signs; now he’s lost
Davy Crockett is gone. The tavern is gone. The waterfront is gone. And the signs that told you they were there are gone as well.
Want to comment on our stories or respond to others? Join the conversation by subscribing now. Only paid subscribers can add their thoughts or upvote/downvote comments. Our commenting policy can be viewed here.