Es inevitable

It's inevitable

There was a time, many years ago, when I lived outside the United States. For about five years I was a resident of the Federal Republic of Germany by virtue of the fact that I was the wife of a military man. I didn’t love the military man, but I loved Germany, it was beautiful and the people were very friendly. I lived close enough to Paris to take a road trip now and then, and I availed myself of that opportunity often. Sadly, the people weren’t so friendly there. They say that many stereotypes have some truth to them, because everything comes from something. And I have to say, as much as I try to avoid stereotypes myself, Parisians are not the most hospitable people in the world. But wow, they sure make good pastries.

Anyway, what’s the point? Oh right, I was discussing my life, for a time, in Germany. Being immersed in the culture as I was, it was really very easy for me to pick up a few words in German, here and there. And since I worked for a German company, with German co-workers, I picked up a few more. After about six months or so, I was getting around pretty well. I enjoyed learning German, and being able to speak to the people around me. Most of them, the Germans that is, were pretty fluent in English and I was pleased to find that with my limited German vocabulary and their pieced-together English, I got along fine. I always thought that a lot of German words just sounded like bad English anyway; red is rot, yes is ja (like, yeah), car is automobile, but pronounced out-a-mo-beal, brother is bruder, sister is schwester, and so on. It made it an easy language to learn.

But when I returned to “The States,” I came back to a South Florida that was slowly becoming a place where a lot of people were speaking Spanish. So I took a few college courses, bought some tapes, took a class, and tried to get with the program. But it was futile. I couldn’t learn Spanish for two reasons: First, every time I tried to say a word in Spanish, my brain would first translate it to German, and then to Spanish. It was cumbersome. For example, if I was learning to say “My friend lives down the road” in Spanish, my brain was hard-wired to think “Mein Freund lebt auf dem Weg” first, and then from there, go to “Mi amigo vive en el camino.” So, you see my problem. And the second reason is because I wasn’t truly immersed in the language. Oh sure, there was a gardener here or a store clerk there, but I was usually too embarrassed to try out my Spanish with a total stranger who might laugh at my pathetic efforts. I went to Miami often enough, but not often enough to really have a need to speak the language. So I let it slide, and decided that in the scheme of things, well, it really wasn’t all that important that I learn to speak Spanish. And then, in a few years, my German fizzled down to a few words and numbers, and even those were pronounced badly.

But things are different now. There was a time when I could smugly think “Hey, when I lived in Germany, I learned the language; if those Hispanic people are here, they need to learn English,” and not think very much about it at all. But that time has passed, I’m afraid. I once read an Amy Tan book, I think it was her first one, The Joy Luck Club, in which her mother wisely offers this advice: “If you can’t change your circumstances, change your attitude.” I have pulled that little gem out of my little silk keepsake purse many a time. Mothers have great little sayings and give good advice, and since my mother never said anything remotely like that (though she did have a whole lotta other wise words of advice), I figured Amy’s mother wouldn’t mind if I tried that one on for size.

As I am doing now. It is no longer an option for me to learn Spanish, it’s a necessity. The area in which I live, if not the country, is quickly becoming a place where Spanish is being spoken all around me. It’s in the air at the grocery store, it glides across the halls in schools I visit, it settles comfortably around a group of ladies who lunch at any ordinary café, and it is on our television. So I can either get with the program, or I can be left in the archaic dustbowl of time, muttering to myself that I can’t understand a G-dam word anyone is saying anymore. I think I would rather get with the program.

See, I am the proud grandmother of three beautiful kids. And those beautiful kids are enthralled with a little Chicano kid named Diego, and a darling little Chica named Dora, and they watch the escapades of these two kids endlessly. I love these shows because Diego and Dora are animal rescuers. They save animals in trouble, and in so doing, teach little minds that animals are worth saving. That they are teaching a whole generation of American kids to speak Spanish is a bonus. These kids, my grandkids (and yours, don’t kid yourself) will need to speak Spanish if they are to compete in the world. Check the Want Ads, and you’ll see that many of them require bi-lingual applicants. So if these kids are learning to speak Spanish by watching television and taking Spanish in school, I want to support that. I want to learn to speak Spanish too so that we can communicate together. So if you come to my house you may see little post-it notes with the names of common household items written in Spanish. ‘El sofa, a la mesa, la television, el gato, el perro. They are all here, though those last two, the cat, the dog, can’t have post its, won’t stick to the fur. But I think I will remember the names for them.

What got me on this ‘kick’? I took my little grandson, mi pequeño nieto, to see a silly movie today; Beverly Hills Chihuahua. It was a cute Disney flick on the order of Old Yeller and Homeward Bound. Dog gets lost, finds a bunch of good-hearted mutts, dog finds love, lives happily ever after. The story is an oft-told, familiar tale but it was entertaining enough and “Lil Z” loved it. He’s only four but he was able to keep up. He loves dogs, comes by it naturally of course, so it was a good movie for him.

Sitting behind us in the theater was an entire Mexican family including mom, dad, three or four boys of various ages and a little girl. There was also an infant in a carrier. Now I know that I grumbled a little when I had to pay the $16 for me and my Lil Z to go to a movie. I can’t imagine how much this movie set this family back. But whatever it was, I can testify that they enjoyed it thoroughly. There was a LOT of Spanish words being spoken in this movie. The dogs, the people, the rat, and the iguana all spoke lots of Spanish, or broken English, and most of the movie took place in Mexico. I enjoyed their laughter, and I enjoyed the fact that some of the words went over my head, so that I missed the joke. But they “got it” and I found that amusing. I’m glad they enjoyed it, but I’m sorry that their movie choices are limited. I remember living in Germany and having to make a special effort to find the cinema that showed the movies in English.

I hope that my efforts to learn Spanish will pay off and someday I will be able to hold an entire conversation with a Spanish-speaking person. I hope that my grandchildren will be as fluent in Spanish and as comfortable speaking Spanish as they are English. I’m grateful for Diego and Dora, and the humane education that they are offering to children every time they save an animal, or teach us how to say that animals’ name in Spanish.

Maybe one day I will even blog in Spanish. That day is a while off yet, but it’s never too late to start a self-improvement project, and this is the one I’ve chosen.
Me deseo suerte, me amigos. Wish me luck.