Assaulting the language barrier

I’m a polyglot.

It means “a person who knows and is able to use several languages.” You’re probably a true polyglot – the real deal – legit, know a lot of languages. I’m a “sort of” polyglot.

I’m from the south. I know that language. “Y’all.” “Bless your heart.” “Fixin’ to.” “Hissy fit.” (My wife pitches them all the time.)

I spent four years in Greece. I know that language. A small, specific sampling, truth be told. I was a young GI with no sense at all. (Well, at least I outgrew the “young GI” part.) I learned the curse words and risqué phrases so I could impress my friends and attempt to make the ladies blush at the bar on base. Friends who learned the same words – stalemate – and ladies who knew way more of the language than you did – enough to make you crawl up in a little ball of shame by the time they got through with you.

I spent two years in San Antonio. I know that. The Texas language. “This ain’t my first rodeo.” “I smell what you’re stepping in.” “Time to paint your (expletive) white and run with the antelope.” “Y’all are all hat and no cattle.” 

I learned the last three from the gentleman – to use that term loosely – who used to manage the civilian compound off-base, where our Air Force ton-and-a-half trucks were kept. (We were part of a mobile unit.) I don’t know if he was a cowboy, but he thought he was and dressed the part. The boots. The hat. Chewed tobacco. Spit. Rolled his own smokes.

He taught me the aforementioned and also a language I can’t even write. Say it. Yes. Write it. No. Not because it’d make you blush red from the obscenities, but yes, there was that, but because it’s a language where the words are all strung together, high-pitched, low-pitched – all over the place – and you can only speak it when your emotions hit a landmine, an explosion of shock, terror and panic. 

He was very good at lecturing us “airmen” on checking the top of the tires on the trucks for sleeping rattlesnakes – apparently, they loved to sleep there, but I never saw one – when we inspected them prior to taking them out on deployment or maintaining proficiency on the dirt track behind the compound. 

What he wasn’t so good at doing was lecturing himself to visually scan the top of the air filter first when he opened the hood to check the oil and water. Hence, when he heard the rattle and saw the reptile quickly starting to curl in defense less than 12 inches from his hand, he jumped down from the bumper faster than a jackalope on Red Bull (and now wings added to the myth) and began to hoot and holler and shout and curse like a Pentecostal preacher on steroids – not to mention leaping up and down, spinning, dancing like somebody was shooting bullets at his feet … The language that came out of that man’s mouth!

I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I took pretty good notes because I used it on one of my sons some years later (among other incidents). He had just gotten his learner’s permit. He had also just gotten a ’64 Mustang – four-cylinder. (I was stationed at Moody AFB in Valdosta by this time.) We went down a dirt road to practice. He kept picking up speed. I kept trying to teach him the beauty of a little language called “you’re going too fast and need to learn a greater appreciation for a word called ‘brake,'” but he didn’t, and we ended up on our side in a ditch when he took a turn too fast. Cue the hooting and hollering … and a young man staring at his dad in unbelief: “Did my ‘Christian’ dad really say that!” (I ain’t proud.)

Maine (Loring AFB). Learned the language. “The roads were ‘greasy’ (slippery/icy).” “The base was out in the of the ‘willie-wacks’ (middle of nowhere).” “It was so cold on some days (-30 below, not counting the wind, and that’s the truth) all you could do was grab a thick blanket and have ‘bed lunches’ (midnight snacks).” “Besides I’m feeling a big ‘pekid’ (sick).”

England (Royal AF Chicksands and Bentwaters). Learned the language. (“Learnt” – their preference.) “Don’t forget your ‘anorak’ (raincoat).” “A few sandwiches short of a picnic” (their equivalent of “all hat and no cattle”). 

Now, I’m learning a new language. Spanish. Seriously. (Okay, so maybe for all those others, I was just wasting my time learning their “slang.”) I’ve wanted to learn it for years, but I’ve just been way too busy (aka too lazy). I’m currently on Session 4 and know and can say a whole host of words.

As long as there are no rattlesnakes or car wrecks in my future, things are going to be great.