My young sons could not pronounce their great-aunt Gertrude’s name, “Gerty,” so they called her “Dee Dee.” Dee Dee was not a lady to hold back with an expression. If she were alive today, facing this coronavirus situation, I suspect she would have given off with a fair number of “Heavens to Murgatroyds!” by now.

Dee Dee never explained what she meant by the exclamation, but she didn’t have to, we always “caught her drift.” I don’t believe the expression has any fixed meaning, anyway. Rather, it’s a carrier utterance, one used to convey emotion by the use of fervent sound. Other expressions that accomplish the same thing when used correctly are: “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!,” “Holy Cow!,” “Snappin’ Butterballs,” “Heavens to Betsey!.” All of which defy any meaning other than what’s implied by their utterance.

Dee Dee would, from time to time, use all these different carrier declarations to convey one exasperation or another, but she always came back to the “Murgatroyd.” It was her default setting for frustration expression. Usually, she came out with it while in the process of taking off her apron. She was able to suppress whatever irritation had been building until after the dishes were done — thereby avoiding any damage to the stoneware.

One doesn’t hear these expressions much anymore — if at all — and that’s too bad. They relieved a lot of stress, obviating the need for swearing and the throwing of various objects. Likely, too, fewer people were shot.

Murgatroyd is reported to be a surname of English aristocracy, and I don’t doubt it is — it has that sort of a ring to it. Later — I don’t know how — it got teamed up with the word Heaven. The combination, “Heavens to Murgatroyd,” was popularized by the cartoon character Snogglepuss of Yogi Bear Show fame. Snogglepuss was the inspiration for another cartoon character — The Pink Panther.

As you can see, Murgatroyd’s aristocratic pedigree didn’t hold up, expression-wise.

My mother would have taken a different tack. She would have made pointed references to the “Nincompoops” involved and how they should be “Rung out and hung out to dry.”

I’ll not speculate what my father — a World War II vet who served in a well-led, smooth running, goal-oriented Army unit — would have said.

Speaking of nincompoops, the lot of them need to “Wake up and smell the roses.” We need people with “Moxie,” not those trying to “Pass the Buck,” “Beat Around the Bush,” and “Blow Smoke” — all at once. They’re like “a broken record” that’s been “rode hard and put away wet.” Still, they implore us, “Don’t touch that dial.”

“Fill your boots.”

It’s going to be a while before it’s “Hunky Dory” again.

My mother’s family was poor. Her father died when she was only 3 years old. Her mother supported her and her five siblings by taking in other people’s laundry, cleaning their homes and businesses.

There was no social security then, no food stamps, no public assistance of any kind except for charity and if Doc. Cameron had not provided his skill without compensation, there would have been no health care.

Despite lacking so much, when they came together at the end of the day and later as adults sat down together, my mother would commonly say: “I wonder what the poor people are doing today?”

She never felt she was one. She always had what she needed most and would never trade “For all the tea in China” — the love of her mother and her family.

We’ll get through the deprivations if we stay together and help each other.

Then it will be “Bob’s your Uncle” and “Okey Dokey” once again — even if the new normal isn’t what it used to be.

Thanks to Joe Marceau and my wife LeaEllen for help with the old expressions.

Doug Pugh’s “Vignettes” runs weekly on Saturdays. He can be reached at pughda@gmail.com.