I know of only two people that understand, or even know, of my love of languages; it's not something that just "comes up" in conversation. Only two of my professors at Chico State ever got a "whiff" of it, and we had several very interesting conversations arrise about it. The first was my History of the English Language professor, as we were learning to read "Olde English". We were talking about a certain portion of Beyowulf in class, and I asked about the meaning of a certain phrase, and read it to her, as we were being instructed. I can still see the look on Harriett Speigel's face, and that's been a little while. She had me repeat it, and told the class that my reading was "perfect". After class, she asked me how it was possible for me to read words, words I was only beginning to understand, with such accented perfection. We talked for a long while.
The second was my Linguistics professor, whose name escapes me, at the moment... Johansen, Johanson, Yolly Yohnson, someting Nordic, anyway... he noted that my ability to reproduce the sounds of words was way above average. He wanted me to become a Linguist, and lobbied to the last, hoping I"d reconsider. He also used to tell us that if he ever saw us, his students, in Chico State Alunmi gear, he'd have us committed to an assylum, as we appeared to have a multiple-personality disorder. Huh? He explained that "alumni" was plural, "alumnus," or "alumnae" were singular. Well, Chico, California never has been known for it's humor.
I was fortunate, as a young man, to make three trips to the Mediteranean. The first could probably be called a "Pub Crawl" through Athens, Corfu, Palma de Majorca, and Spain, with a side "crawl" of Scotland. What can I say... the Navy was contributing to my alcoholism, but it was "OK" at that time. I did learn some very valuable lessons, though.
I saw the "Ugly American" in action. Thomas "Tex" Carlucci. We were on our first "liberty" in Athens, Greece. Tom was going to the NCO Club at the Air Force Base for dinner, and I tagged along. I had arrived on USS INDEPENDENCE while it was at anchor in Souda Bay, Crete. We weighed anchor a few hours later, so this would be my first experience outside the U.S. We waited in line, got on a utility boat, and sailed into a landing next to the Delta Club. We walked out to where there were numerous taxis, and Tom started shouting "Speak English?" He was pretty much ignored. After a minute, a cab driver approached me, quietly, saying that he spoke English, and asked me where we wanted to go. Lesson: Demanding the speaking of English in a European nation who's native language is not, is a good way to get ignored. It was simple, at first, but it ignited a desire to learn certain phrases in Greek, Italian, Turkish, and Spanish, so I could be respectful to my hosts. You'd be surprised, at least I was, at the number of people who speak English, throughout the world, if you learn enough of the native language to say, "I do not speak [language], do you speak English?"
When we got to Barcelona, Tom assured everyone that his Spanish was "passable," as he was, after all, "Tex". Come to find out, he was born in Massachusetts, raised, schooled, joined the Navy from somewhere outside of Boston. While he was in Boot Camp, his dad took the job of Chief of Police, in San Antonio, Texas. At that point, Tom became "Tex," listened to Country Music, and ONLY Country Music (none of that "Rock and Roll"). We were in the city, looking for a place to eat, and drink. Tex walks up to this nice-looking Senorita, and spouts, "El speak-o mooch-o Mexico, a don-de es la bar-o?" I wanted to crawl under a rock.
Enough. It's the sounds of the words that facinate me. It's like music being played in the background, all of the conversations we hear, and try to ignore. I don't care what the language may be, I really enjoy listening to people speak. It's unfortunate that our most polished orators are predominately politicians, but people who use their language well always have my attention. I learned stock-phrases phonetically. Don't spell it, show me how it is supposed to sound. I can make sounds, translating from one language to another...? Different story alltogether.
Anyway, that's it. That's my "dirty" little secret.
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