So many good things in life come in twos. Shoes, buses, papal visits (maybe), brothers-in-law ... Brothers-in-law? Hang on there now! I have two.
One of the most unsatisfactory things about life is how little real choice any of us have. We don’t choose parents, siblings, any of our relatives, brothers-in-law.
As with being great, some are born that way, some achieve it, some have it thrust upon them. Few are born with brothers-in-law. Some may become so without effort – it is not achievement. Most have such unsought relatives thrust upon them by besotted sisters, who do so without thought for male siblings whose destiny thereafter is regret at leisure.
It is a classic example of regret without responsibility.
My mother has a novel way of keeping her two sons-in-law in order. Should either show a rare courage and step out of line she tells him “you are my second favourite son-in-law.”
Such fate befalls one of my brothers-in-law more frequently than the other. It is his good fortune to live near my mother. Not too near. He has some habits, among them his frequent use of the word ‘extraordinary’.
It was around the time of his marriage to my sister that this became particularly noticeable. Understandable as this was then, considering the woman he had married and the family he had become part of, it did begin to grate.
Not that this mattered. Everything remained extraordinary. Everything remains extraordinary. Indeed his use of the word has by now become something of an art form in itself and of which he is the sole worldwide exponent.
It’s quite a skill too. The weather last summer was so good he thought it extraordinary. The weather this summer was so bad he thought it extraordinary.
Roscommon’s success in moving to Division One of the National Football League earlier this year was extraordinary. Roscommon’s collapse before Sligo and Fermanagh in this year’s Championship was extraordinary.
And Mayo’s footballers are always extraordinary, whether in victory or eventual defeat.
So you can only understand what he means when he says “extraordinary” by the context in which he uses the word, rather than by the word itself. Which, you must admit, is ... well ... extraordinary.
From the Latin extraordinarius, meaning 'out of the (Ros)common order'.
