NATASHA...

It sounds like a Russian name, doesn’t it? I tease her about “Boris” and “Rocky and Bullwinkle” (young folks might not know who they are). But Tasha lives with us and goes to college. We are her guardians and take an interest in her welfare.

Our church had a Family Retreat recently at Camp Yamhill. One of our fun activities is “Campfire”. We have kids and adults who perform skits, just to entertain and have fun together. Tasha and I did a skit called “Generations”. She speaks a language of today’s young people, using slang terms unusual to my generation. Even some of my slang terms have a completely different meaning in today’s slang, so we have to be careful what we say!

I conceived an idea for our skit because I strain to understand her language sometimes; words like “snap”, “stellar”, “what’s up”, “chillin’ like a villain”, “stoked”, “tight” and “whatever”. So we wrote a “Talk with Tasha” skit…..she wrote her part and I wrote my part, to try to show the audience how much differently we are, yet, in our own era, the same. She spoke in “her language” and I spoke in the slang of the 50’s and 60’s…my era. I don’t have her part to share with you, but here is mine….

“The word from the bird is you are cool for an ankle biter. Sometimes you’re such a bug, but I know it’s only a bit. I know we have issues about your locks and threads but that’s not always close. Your nest is okay and for the most part you are unreal. You razz my berries when you go ape and flip over a flick. Sometimes you’re nuggets, but you’re earthbound and classy. You don’t play the sounds too loud and you take care of the sides….I like that. You’re not a wet rag or take part in submarine races like some nosebleed; I’m hip with that.

I appreciate the fact that you like killing time with me; I think you are a kick! I don’t have to worry about you hanging, or making out with some groady greaser in the backseat of his jacked up machine, or screaming down the street doing wheelies in some ivy leaguers rocket rod looking over his shoulder for the heat. Stay away from those shucksters! I realize my tank don’t always agitate the gravel, but she’s cherry. I can still blow off most of the Clyde’s on the block. We fire up a mean bent eight; she goes flat out on the stretch and we collect the pinks! My chariot can still lay a patch like a make out. My mirror warmer might look kooky, but it’s the most and she don’t nod. When I pop the clutch and punch her, she’s off the line like a Deuce; cookin like a dolly; it’s fat city to cream the jelly rollers out there, for sure!

It’s great to shoot the breeze with you. I get smog in the noggin sometimes, but you’re a gas to chew the fat with and I don’t have to be pretentious. We’re tight. You don’t have a cow or freak out when I ground you for hanging with some hodad gremmie on the sand patting his pomade and coming home after dark thirty! You’re in the pad on time; not playing back seat bingo like your hoodlum friends. That puts me on cloud 9. Once in a while I have trouble understanding what you say but you’re a big tickle with more jets than most! I think we dig each other enough to have these great father/daughter talks and come to a full understanding of how we feel about things. Do you need any bread?? I can always spare a couple of skins or even a fin for my little paper shaker. What do you say? Wanna split?”

English language is HARD!

I live with a teenager college student who loves to talk. I do believe that her niche in life would be in advertising. I can easily picture her as the one who reads the disclaimer paragraph at the end of each advertisement. Those people have to be very fast as the company can afford to waste money on airtime!

I oftentimes deal with people who are not from my neck of the woods and clear conversation becomes an issue. I was reminded of that this morning as I met with an inspector to discuss an issue relating to the installation of a water heater. This particular inspector has been doing this line of work for the State Department for several years. In his mind, communication is not an issue. His native country is Russia, as is his native language. His use of the American language is limited and, I must admit, oftentimes, frustrating to those of us trying to understand what he’s talking about!

Learning to speak American English is not the complete issue. It is necessary for us to deal with the accent and the proper use of the language, at the same time. It’s intriguing to listen to his choice of words to describe his thoughts, as he mixes them with broken English.

I got to thinking about those who teach English as a second language. Doing some research, I discovered how hard it must be for a foreigner to learn our language, especially to attempt to use it properly. Here are some things to consider:

We must polish the Polish furniture.
He could lead if he would get the lead out.
The farm was used to produce produce.
The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
The soldier decided to desert in the desert.
This was a good time to present the present.
A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
I did not object to the object.
The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
The bandage was wound around the wound.
There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
They were too close to the door to close it.
They sent a sewer down to stitch the tear in the sewer line.
To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
After a number of injections my jaw got number.
Upon seeing the tear in my clothes I shed a tear.
I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
The singer had to record the record.
Will you be able to live through a live concert?

Now, if you think that’s hard to understand, try this one:

Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple.

English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend?

If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

Sometimes I can’t understand what people are saying. After this research, I’m convinced neither does anyone else! Why don’t ‘everbody’ just ‘talk Southern’?

The day before Thanksgiving, 1969
11/26/69: “I’m sitting inside a dirty room in Cam Ranh Bay. It isn’t the greatest place in the world but it is quiet, at least as far as a war is concerned. The night sounds consist of the singsong voices of the South Vietnamese mingled with restless GI’s, and a howling wind. It’s very sandy in this part of the country. The base sits on the edge of the South China Sea and it seems as if it’s sandy beaches stretches inland for miles. The wind continues to carry the sand along with it! It’s even inside the rooms and our beds! It’s very uncomfortable. The night air is very cool, almost cold. I doubt very seriously if my single sheet is sufficient. My friend and I are stuck here for the night because we weren’t able to get a plane farther north. There’s a chance we can get one tomorrow noon, but a slim one! What a way to spend Thanksgiving Day!
Note: An interesting thing happened here. I arrived in Cam Ranh Bay pretty much completely broke…barely had a dime to my name. With my Pay Records going to Phu Cat it would be hard to get the AF to give me some money to tie me over until payday. But I decided to take a chance and see if they could do something. I went to the finance office and told the guy behind the desk what I wanted. He asked my name and service number. I gave it to him. He made a note of it and then went to a large file cabinet to check my pay records. I reminded him that I was just traveling through here and that my pay records would be in Phu Cat. He didn’t listen much and said even less. All at once I was surprised to see him pull out a file on me and go through it. It contained my pay records! I couldn’t believe it. He said the records shouldn’t be here but they were. So it seems as if I really lucked out on this one because my pay would really have been messed up in Phu Cat come payday! Without records it’s hard to get any money out of them. Also, I was able to get my money to tie me over. In fact, I got a whole month’s pay because the last time I had any money was before I left Germany in August!
11/27/69: “I arrived in Phu Cat this afternoon about 5:00.
I went to the mailroom and already had mail!! I hear the sound of small arms fire off in the distance. Today is Thanksgiving Day. It’s about to come to a close. It didn’t seem like much of one, even though I did have a turkey dinner. Phu Cat is a bit different than Cam Ranh Bay. There’s no blowing sand here. It’s much cooler here; in fact it’s too cold. As I look over my right shoulder I see flares going off in the distance. Even though I hear the sounds of rifle fire in the same area, it’s kind of quiet here. The base hasn’t been hit for about 2 months now. I hope it continues to be quiet. It’s a little foggy tonight. I hear the rain starting to fall on the tin roof of our barracks. I hope the wind doesn’t start to blow in.”

I can identify with our men in Iraq; being far away from home during the Thanksgiving holidays. They would love to be home with their families; perhaps in a room full of family, with a cozy fireplace and the smell of wonderful food cooking in the oven.

I ran across this funny quip I want to share with you. I realize that war isn’t funny (perhaps more than you do) but where there’s no band, sometimes you have to make your own music…

AC NEWS: Redneck Special Forces....

The Pentagon announced today the formation of a new 500-man elite fighting unit called the United States Redneck Special Forces. These Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri,Oklahoma, North and South Carolina, Tennessee & Texas boys will be dropped off into Iraq. They have only been told the following facts about terrorists:
1. The season opened today.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken
4. They don't like beer, pickups, country music or Jesus.
5. They are DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE for the death of Dale Earnhardt.
We expect the problem in Iraq to be over by Friday.

May the joys of the Thanksgiving Holiday be yours! May you be comforted as you bask in the safety of a free Nation, protected by young men serving our Armed Forces at home and in foreign lands.