Chartreuse

What's in a color name?

Norm Talbot didn’t take long to lie down on the counseling couch after he came into Dr. Martin’s office.

“I’m going nuts, Doc. I tell you. I’m going nuts. Or else the rest of the world is, and I’m the only sane one.”

This was Talbot’s first visit to a psychologist ever. He didn’t know what to expect so he just blurted things out.

“Well, Mr. Talbot, tell me a little about yourself. I’ll help you with your diagnosis.”

“Sure sure, Doc. Not sure what you want to know. 35, married to one gal. Two kids. Good parents, both mom and dad. Nothing wacky or bizarre about them. Grew up in New York City, Brooklyn, if that matters. I just, I just can’t get over all these new colors.”

“New colors?”

“Yeah, ever heard of Charlotte Reusse or something like that?”

“Chartreuse perhaps?”

“Yeah, yeah. You know about it too, huh? I know this Charlotte Reusse as a swanky restaurant in New York. Also a fancy dessert, but it ain’t no color.

“And there was that other color. So, there I was, Doc, waiting at an elevator. This pretty young thing steps out in a long flowing dress, so I compliments her on it. ‘Pretty pink dress, Miss.’ You know, real polite like.

“’Ah, thanks,’ she says and then adds. ‘But it’s salmon.’”

“Go on,” Dr. Martin said.

“Doc, tell me I’m not going bananas, but salmon is a fish, is it not? A great tasting fish, am I right?”

“Absolutely right. It’s a great tasting fish when cooked right. But it’s also a color,” the psychologist said.

“What, you’re turning against me too?”

“No, Norm. It’s not like that at all. Since there are more colors than brown, white, black, red, and green, people make up names for the in-between colors. It’s just their way of, shall we say, coloring their world, you know, making sense of it.”

“I don’t know. Bluish red is bluish red to me. Brownish green is brownish green to me. Know what I mean? I like to be descriptive about things instead of people having to look things up in their dictionaries just to talk to me.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ever heard of champagne?” Norm asked.

“As a color?”

“Yes. The guys in the shop threw that one on me the other day. I thought they were bonkers. Only one other hadn’t heard of it as a color and English isn’t his first language. Did I just have a poor education?”

“I wouldn’t say that. You probably heard people talking about these colors, but it never registered to you as colors. I can assure you, Mr. Talbot, you are perfectly sane.”

“So, no need for psych meds or anything.”

“Not that I see. Normal, red-blooded American.”

“Okay, Doc. Thanks for your time. I’ll settle up with your front office people. You’ve been very very helpful. Wow, I feel like I have a new lease on life after this.”

“Glad to help.”

After Talbot closed the door behind him, Dr. Martin wrote at the end of his notes:

Good thing he didn’t ask about mauve, cobalt, taupe, umber, fuschia, carmine, sienna, or periwinkle. I have no idea how to describe those colors.