Family of Linguaphiles

We are a family of people who love language and languages. I was thinking about this the other day, mentally tallying up the various languages represented in our family. It is a fairly long list. Including my parents, siblings, siblings' significant others, and nieces and nephews we have the following covered (with varying degrees of fluency): German, Russian, French, Korean, Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian, Chinese, Lithuanian, and a smattering of Polish and Malay.

Pretty impressive. At least, I'm impressed.

My brother has a room dedicated to the study of German. One niece has been teaching English in Korea for several years, her sister is a budding German/Spanish high school teacher, and their cousin (also my niece) has taken just about ever language offered in her school.

The most recent accomplishment is held by my nephew-the-Marine who just aced his Korean language test. Congratulations, kiddo!

Personally, I took five years of German and I have a Spanish lesson book. I may not be holding up my end of things. Perhaps some studying and podcasts are in my future.

Der Stubentiger

In German the word "die Stube" refers to the parlor of a house and "der Tiger" is the king of beasts, the tiger, so "der Stubentiger" is a colorful nickname for a domesticated cat, a "parlor tiger". Make no mistake, though, this "tame" cat is only one step away from being feral and can easily adapt to a life on the hunt, filled with the terrified sounds of small mammals and birds, perhaps a reptile, maybe even an amphibian, as this "most perfect of all animals" walks through its kingdom. Most scientists agree that, had the cat been equipped with opposable thumbs, the species would surely have ruled the world. Cats are clearly more intelligent than human beings, really belonging to a higher order altogether, and undoubtedly man made a very narrow genetic escape from being enslaved, forced to do the bidding of Cattus cattus. This is the true reason why many are against genetic engineering, being fearful that cats will one day rule the world. In fact, although lions and leopards are mentioned in the Bible, the cat is nowhere to be found in the Holy Writ. Silence only or a conspiracy of silence?

"If I won a major lottery!"

This is the first in a new series, entitled: "If I won a major lottery!" My first purchase would be a stereo microscope ($200-$1,500), pictured on the left. With this piece of equipment I could observe worlds significantly smaller than ours. The life represented under its lenses would be familiar: very small insects, pieces of pollen, individuals strands of hair or fur, and other objects difficult to see with the naked eye. The magnification would not be high enough to witness the birth of new viruses or the replication of DNA, and I doubt if many major scientific breakthroughs should be expected, but I would stay up very late into the night to clearly see an ant leading an aphid to the milking barn, or the silken fibers of a spider forming a web, provided that the animals in question were kind enough to cooperate! I must admit that there exists a major problem with the source of funding for this purchase: the lottery. I don't "play" this ridiculous "game", nor do I plan to do so in the future. Other monies will have to be sought.

Note 1: The use of quotation marks ("") around certain words does not imply condemnation of the affected nouns (ed.)
Note 2: On the other hand, the use of these punctuation marks must signify some reaction that the author does not want to clarify with actual text

This is a sympathy card in German. A rough translation: "Sincere Sympathy" in the northeast quadrant of the card, and "When the sun of the life sets, the stars illuminate the memory" in the southwest quadrant. This is a very typical, that is, commonplace, mundane, banal, quotidian expression, and cards like this are probably not even read by many recipients, who have already guessed (correctly!) the sentiment. Most of these traditional sympathy cards look very similar to one another, a situation which further limits the attention the bereaved undoubtedly deserves. My suggestion, and it is put forward with only the greatest temerity, is to create another category of bereavement documents: Sympathy-Humor. After all, the category: Birthday-Humor exists, and laughter is supposed to reduced feelings of loss and hopelessness, so this new type of card makes sense. There could be a series with the motto: "Don't collect them all!" to reduce the possibility of an outcry against such crass and cruelty. My first sketch, almost completed, would have a quaint peaceful scene on the front, maybe of a quiet place which has recently become empty and void of happiness, and the words: "You are not alone". When the card is opened the devil and his minions are seen to be rejoicing as they welcome the dearly departed to a celebration of truly satanic proportions. A small slit in the card would allow the sender to place a picture of the deceased close to Lucifer. There would also be the option of purchasing these cards with a soundtrack. My choice would be "Hell", by the Squirrel Nut Zippers, but I am always open to suggestions, especially if they are suggestive and rude. I patiently await!

[This post is certified to be devoid of emoticons]

Geisterfahrer

An individual known as "der Geisterfahrer", or "ghostly driver", is also referred to as "der Falschfahrer", or "wrong(way) driver", and is much feared on German roads, especially the autobahn, where he/she can cause an understandable amount of confusion, if not death and destruction. Motives should always be considered, however, and some Gesterfahrer might simply be disoriented, or tired, or purposely and purposefully headed in the "wrong" direction with a distinct goal in mind and intent on avoiding oncoming traffic. They might even be driving on the shoulder of the road, or during low-traffic times, so as to cause as little concern as possible. In the song by the same name, the German pop group, Tokio Hotel , is centered on an attempt by a man to reach his true love, even though he has had to make a 180 degrees turn on the roadway.

Dad's Rules of Combat

My dad is a soldier. He served for 20 years in the US Army, and his outlook on interpersonal relations was ingrained in us all from our earliest moments, for better or worse. I like to think of myself as a pacifist, someone who can use reason and diplomacy to solve conflicts and disagreements. But no matter how hard I try, my dad's words of wisdom keep popping into my head.

Never start a fight, but if someone starts one with you, hit them first, hit them hard, and you should only have to hit them once.

Last week my son had his calculator stolen out of his backpack on the bus. The boys that took it didn't know him, though one is in our neighborhood. He is a huge boy, 6'5", about 240 pounds, and bears a striking resemblance to a troll. My kid called me at work to tell me what happened, and knowing a fair amount about this boy and his past run-ins with other kids, I decided not to put Junior in harms way and handled it myself. I figured he was much less likely to beat me to a pulp knowing his mother, who happens to be a prison guard, was a friend of mine.

I went over on my way home while I was still full of righteous anger. After a series of hard-line but frustrating negotiations with the dear child and a long conversation with his mother, the situation was somewhat resolved. He brought over $30 to replace the calculator, and knows that I promised his mom I would let her know immediately if there was any other unpleasantness with either him or his toady pals. So far so good.

I was able to replace the calculator, but it only cost me about $15. Do I give him the change? Do I donate the balance to our daughter's Walk to Cure Diabetes team? Hmmm.

We've decided to give him the change. I want him to know that we're not out for vengeance, but justice. I want him to know that we appreciate his willingness to take responsibility for his actions and even those actions of his friends (he fully confessed to his mother, even though his friends destroyed the calculator). And I want to show him a kindness that he didn't show my son, and hope that it will make him think through his future actions before he commits them. My husband wanted our son to take the money over and try to salvage the "relationship." I refused, as there was no prior relationship and the negotiations were with me, not our son. I want him to look me in the eye and know that I know that he knows that I know. I'm not the one that rides the bus with him, so if there are hard feelings (which I don't think there will be), he will have them towards me and not our son.

Idealistic? Yes. Naive? Perhaps. Foolish? I hope not.

Name Two

I have a couple of books on my nightstand – Middlemarch (George Eliot) and A Thread of Grace (Mary Doria Russell). In all honesty, The New Yorker, Heimskringla or The Lives of the Norse Kings, and my quad scriptures are also by my bed, but this isn't about any of those.

I am part of a little book club on GoodReads called the Transatlantic Bibliophiles. It's a lovely little group that Di started. This summer, the chosen book was Middlemarch by George Eliot. A classic. A very looong classic. Now I loved Bleak House, and that was 900 pages, so I do not have anything against long books. This one, however, has seemed to drag on a bit. It is a classic and people love it. That's what I hear, anyway. Everyone loves it.

Well, as a collective, we just could not muster the stick-to-it-tive-ness needed to finish Middlemarch as a group. I'm still determined to finish it, but I have turned in my library copy (after renewing it twice) and now I'm reading it on my phone. Lots of page turns, but quite convenient. I'm about 45% of the way through, so I'm getting there.

We've moved on to our current book: A Thread of Grace by Mary Doria Russell. Set in Italy during World War II, it offers a glimpse into the world in that time and place. A juxtaposition of the kindness of strangers and the horrors of war. It is a much faster read and I am quite enjoying it.

At one point in the story, a father and daughter are hiding in the mountains, hungry, cold, and frightened. Someone leaves them some food and the daughter is ecstatic and hollers a thank you to the hills. Her father is furious, even though their location is obviously already known. He rants about how the peasants hate them:

“The people in these mountains are illiterate peasants! They're ignorant, Claudette. Priests have been filling their heads with Christ-killer lies all of their lived!... They think we poison wells! They think we murder babies and use their blood to make matzoh! They hate us--”

“Name two.”
Albert blinks.

Whenever we said 'they,' Mama told us to name two.” Claudette divides the lump of cheese, handing half to Albert. “Mama said if you can't name two actual real people, then you're just being prejudiced. So name two peasants who hate us.”

This “name two” has really stuck with me. How often we hear sweeping generalizations about all of this kind of person or all of that kind of person. I hang out with Dad while he watches Fox News, and all of the personalities use sweeping generalizations.

Whoops. Well, actually, I can name two, so that sweeping characterization stands.

The next time I say “they” all do this or that, I am going to pause to see if I can name two.

I'll start with trying to name two people who love reading Middlemarch. Maybe I will be even one of them – in 400 pages or so.