October 4, 2011           Loving Language and Meine Rückkehr in die deutsche Sprache.    


Have comments?
Here is my email address: wjwirth@wjwirth.com

To see other blog entries, click here


For my entire life, language, any language, has been nothing short of a love affair. And like anyone who dabbles in affairs of the heart, frustration, disappointment, hard work and occasional success have been my lot.

One of my earliest recollections is an argument. The scene was my Uncle Carl’s house in Helena. I was very young, so one has to factor in later amplifications of a vivid imagination. Walking into a dining room, heavy brown furniture, I remember my great-grandfather Adolph, my grandfather William Adolph and my granduncle Carl sitting at a table. Voices were raised, raised in a language I didn’t understand. It was German, I think, the first "foreign' language I ever heard.

Scroll forward more tender years, after I joined the black and white group, the altar boys. At Mass, altar boys and priest would sweep into the sanctuary, bow deeply, intoning “Introibo ad altare Dei”. The altar boys responded with “Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam” and we were off. Since my mind was generally empty at daily Mass, the Latin prayers poured in, rearranging neurons for later duty.

Teenage life provided its own language, upgraded somewhat during my college years. The USAF joined in with a vast array of technical terms, ranging from aircraft to radar to computers.

It was the last year of my heroic service that really got the ball rolling.

Assigned to a site in Japan, I was the chief of a 4-man liaison team to a Japanese radar site. Our duties consisted of monitoring the occasional American aircraft/Japanese controller mission. We worked one 24-hour day, and then had 3 days off. Living in a small fishing village, it was as close to total immersion as you can get. I know that Japanese penetrated to a significant degree. When I returned to the US, I continued to study for a while but it eventually settled into the background.

My next big challenge was Spanish. Samsonite needed someone to work with a Mexican joint venture on a computer upgrade. It was an ideal learning environment. Daily I would study a lesson, then apply what I had just studied out at the plant. When I returned home, I would change into jeans and go to a Metro station somewhere in the vast reaches of Ciudad de Mexico, walking slowly, watching, occasionally stopping in a restaurant for something to eat. I learned a lot, have forgotten much over the ensuing years, but still read and enjoy Mexican/Spanish telenovellas on cable.

Years later, I traveled to Spain three times and found a curious relationship. “Mexican is to Spanish as American is to English”. One can get along but there are distinct differences.

Over the years, I worked for several companies, usually wangling my way into an international position. One company allowed me to spend considerable time in Hong Kong. After a few visits, I began to consider the possibility of learning Cantonese. Walking through a market, being seduced by the sing-song patter of Cantonese, I found myself looking in a bookstore window: “Chinese in 30 Hours”. The come-hither was unmistakable: add me to your list. However, resolve forced its way through, “No”, I shouted, alarming vendors of plastic ware, vegetables and barbecued chicken. ‘I will not. Fluency in German, Japanese and Spanish is first. No more!” Then I fled, noting hands reaching for telephones to report a “Fēngkuáng de wàiguó rén” (crazy foreigner). See what I mean – I am helpless. . .

As a year would go by, it seems that something would spark my interest and a book would come out. I would study, study, . . . But language is a living art and the annual spark would sputter and grow dim.

And so, I stayed the course these many years. Now I confess my patience with fluency wears thin. Noting my Hong Kong experience, I decided that advancing years require further refinement. Therefore, I declare, I narrow my goals for fluency. I will focus, focus, focus; return to my wonder of tender years; declare sense of purpose. Spanish and Japanese will be pushed to second tier and German, die Muttersprache, will be mine. (At least for a while)

Comments:
 
italia said...

Good, interesting story with thought provoking aspects. Thanks. Patty

October 4, 2011 9:00 PM