Saturday, December 28, 2019

The Two Popes - a film review

I am having difficulty finding the words to express my reservations about the film, The Two Popes, without breaking one of my cardinal rules in judging a work of art.  I think works of art should be judged by how well the artist accomplishes what they set out to do, not by what the audience hopes to find  in them. But that's pretty much what I have to do here. I was offended by the film because it presented two of the world's most powerful figures - two popes - as two kindly old men, leaving out any serious recognition of the devastation they can inflict - and have inflicted - on the world by dint of the power they hold in their hands.

Maybe a better place to start is the beautiful acting job by the lead actors, Anthony Hopkins, who plays Benedict/Ratzinger, and Jonathan Pryce, who plays Francis/Bergoglio. It's a bromance. The two men start out on opposite sides of the fence, Ratzinger the arch conservative and Bergoglio the reformer, and do an intellectual fancy dance in the garden at Castel Gandolfo, the reigning pope's summer residence. Bergoglio, still Archbishop Cardinal of Argentina, has flown in to ask the pope to allow him to retire. Ratzinger ends up grooming him to be his successor instead. Far as I know that's pretty much pure fiction. In real life Bergoglio would write a letter and the pope would say yes.

But then we wouldn't get to hear the delightful debate between the two views splitting the church down the middle, the conservative view that what makes the church great is its devotion to unchanging truth, and the progressive view that the church must remain relevant and not fail to distinguish between what is in fact eternal - faith in the divinity of Christ, for example - and what is merely conventional practice at any point in the history of the church, everything from eating fish on Friday (no longer required) to clerical celibacy and the subordination of women to men, which progressives urge it's time to toss aside. Again, if I have my facts right, pretty much fiction. What we have in Ratzinger and Bergoglio is a radical conservative and a moderate conservative (if support of the patriarchy and celibacy doesn't mean calling Bergoglio "moderate" is going too far.) No surprise here, of course. Even a casual moment's reflection should make one realize there's no way they could put a radical reformer in power and change church practices overnight. Bergoglio is more open than Ratzinger, without a doubt, but he's not rocking the boat all that much - and in any case not at all as much as the film suggests.

It's a PR job, in other words. It softens the edges of two powerful men, makes them warm and fuzzy instead of cold and crackly (which is how I see Ratzinger) and kindly, perhaps, but crafty for sure (which is how I see the Jesuit Jorge Bergoglio).

An article appeared in yesterday's National Catholic Reporter which mentions the film in passing. While it may have the right words when it refers to the film as "the charming new Netflix movie," it misses the woods for the trees in my estimation. The film pretends to view the two men in very human terms. They show Bergoglio, in the end, teaching Ratzinger to tango and the two watch the 2014 World Cup between Argentina and Germany with all the passion their countrymen show in rooting for their home teams.  Less flashy, more moving, are the scenes where the two of them confess their sins to each other.  Unfortunately, here's where I found my mind wandering to a term a professor I once had often had which could reduce us to a puddle of insecurities: she would speak of a "fatal flaw" in our work.  With apologies to writer Anthony McCarten and filmmaker Fernando Meirelles, that's where I began to see the film as fluff.  Ratzinger barely mentions the name of Marcial Marcel, a Mexican priest whose corruption reached staggering proportions, before the sound fades away. Ratzinger, we know, played a role in covering up the extent of Marcel's corruption. 

Bergoglio's dark moment gets much better treatment. He was in a position as head of the Jesuits in Argentina to stand up to the dictatorship under General Videla, who seized power in 1976, famous for throwing protesters out of planes into the sea off the coast of Buenos Aires. Two of Bergoglio's subordinates in the Jesuit Order, Franz Jalics and Orlando Yorio are taken off by Videla's men and Yorio doesn't survive. Bergoglio's opponents insist he could have used the power of the church to protect these men if he had chosen to. Bergoglio maintains that he didn't see that possibility, and the charge of cowardice has nagged at him ever since.

I've decided that I'm in no position to cast the first (or any other) stone at Bergoglio for this "failing", and that allows me to continue to give the man some space - although I must admit his hard line on LGBT dignity and legal rights as well as his patriarchal views on the status of women still prevent me from becoming a fan. Ratzinger is another kettle of fish. I can't get past his role as head of the erstwhile Inquisition, what is today called the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Ratzinger was prefect (head) of that organization from 1981 to 2005, during which time every reported case of child abuse came across his desk. Where it sat, apparently, and went nowhere.

That's what I'm talking about when I speak of missing pieces in the story of The Two Popes.

The word is Ratzinger resigned over his inability to put the child abuse scandal to rest. I think the failure to address the question directly, and with the same kind of thoroughness given to Bergoglio's history detracts from The Two Popes, as appealing as it may be as a fictionalized tale of a clash between two towering figures of power and intrigue. There is sufficient ambiguity in Bergoglio's story to suggest he might not be a total bad guy, but Ratzinger gets off virtually scot free. And that's what bugs me. It makes the film a whitewash.

Whatever one thinks of the Roman Catholic Church, one cannot in good conscience support a whitewash. It's corrupt to the core. If you don't believe me, I recommend reading Jason Berry's Render Unto Rome: The Secret Life of Money in the Catholic Church. Just as the Republican Party of the United States is illustrating the maxim these days that "power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely," money that "makes the world go round" is at the heart of the Vatican's hypocrisies, as well. Sitting on the child abuse scandal, leaving its victims high and dry may be the better way to go if you are a Machiavellian church leader like Ratzinger - God knows what all those legal suits might cost the church! 

Maybe it's not just money; maybe it's what they say it is, that they are interested in protecting "the good name" of the church, and simply calling the shots wrong. Maybe they're not sinister, but simply subject to human error and weakness in making policy decisions.  To return to the focus at hand, it's not just the pope at the top, obviously. The church is much too big and powerful an organization to be run by a single figure - despite all we hear about the pope being an absolute monarch. Check out that National Catholic Reporter article I mentioned above for the story on Cardinal Angelo Sodano, for example. Or listen to how they got the goods on Australia's Cardinal Pell.  And while you're at it, if you've got some time to spare, listen to the Australian judge tell the story of how he reached a verdict in the case - it will take you just over an hour, but it's worth every minute. You get to see what a marvelous legal system Australia is working with. And see what can be accomplished by civil authority when the church fails to police its own.

I know it looks like I've gone off on a number of tangents here, but the point is I don't think one can do a decent job of telling the story of The Two Popes without providing the context in which they live and breathe, the world of power-mongering and hypocrisy and manipulation. The buck stops with them. They don't get to the top without becoming at least part-time enablers of the system. 

The question is how much.

That's the story I would have liked to see told in a film carrying the title, The Two Popes.



photo credit

Friday, December 20, 2019

Trump iz impitsht!


Interesting word, this word impeach.  Despite the fact that Stephen Colbert has been riding the impeachment process for all it’s worth for a couple months now with his series of skits on “Don and the Giant Impeach,” in which a large bouncing peach gets squashed, I assume that most people realize the connection between impeachment and peachy-keen is purely coincidental.  It is the word of the hour, and I must admit, I find both the fruit and the goings-on in the House delicious. I’ve been waiting, like most people I know, for that sucker to get taken down, and this is a dream come true. I know, I know, it’s but the beginning and the Senate is about to show its true colors as a cowardly bunch in thrall to the lowlife-in-chief. They’re pretty certain to let him off the hook, and demonstrate that the once proud party of Abraham Lincoln has now become the party of the cravenly rich, unabashedly tapping into native xenophobia to keep its paymasters in charge of things.

I know that Nancy Pelosi, bless her heart and her political savvy, wants us to think big and consider the impeachment of a president a black mark on our longterm democracy project. But I can’t help myself. I feel like singing and dancing to see this bozo have to carry the title, “Third Impeached President of the United States.”

Since my voice now cracks when I sing God Bless America, and my joints now limit my dancing to a couple kicks in the air and no more, I have to make do by playing with the concept and the sociolinguistic scope of the word impeach itself.

What interests me, linguistically, is the fact that the concept itself seems to be pretty much located in the world of Anglo-American democracies. You can tell that by the way impeach is a loanword in so many languages.

Here’s some background. 

To start with, impeach, the dictionary tells us, is a regular English verb, declined normally: 3rd person present is impeaches, past tense is impeached, past participle is impeached, and the gerund or present participle is impeaching

Synonyms include, when speaking in general, non-political, terms: challenge, question, call into question, cast doubt on, raise doubts about.  And when speaking in political terms: to indict, charge, accuse, or to bring a charge against someone.

Antonyms include the word confirm.

There is a slight difference in British and American usage. In British English it is usually used to mean to charge someone with treason or another crime against the state, and in the U.S., it is used more generally to mean to charge the holder of a public office with misconduct, (i.e., not necessarily treason.)

The word traces its origin back to the Latin word for foot: pes/pedis, specifically to the metaphor of catching someone by the foot, impedicare. Like many Latinate words, it comes to us via the French evolution of the word: empêcher,  a term which went down another path to our word impede, as well.

It remains an Anglo-centric concept around the world, and if you type “Trump has been impeached” into Google Translate, at least 16 languages pop up using the English term, as opposed to a native term. I suspect I'd find even more if I had access to languages whose scripts I am unable to decipher. 

When Brazil’s President Delma Rousseff was impeached, they used the English word, not the Portuguese term, in the slogan Impeachment Já (Impeachment Now).  Mongolian, Tajik, and all the Scandinavian languages have borrowed the word directly as have Dutch and Frisian, even though they might have used native equivalents for “indict” or “accuse” which they no doubt have in their vocabularies.  Which is what the French, ever en garde about ceding ground to the English language wherever they can, have done.  This is not a criticism - there is absolutely no reason why, if there’s a native equivalent, that it shouldn’t be used. I’m in sympathy with folk who resent the power the Anglo-American Empires have held over their realms, including their languages, and I find it noteworthy that they have not gone the way of the 16+ languages which have pressed the English language term into domestic service. 

And I should not be singling out the French here; their Latin origin cousins are with them. French translates “Trump has been impeached” as “Trump a été mis en accusation!” which glosses to Trump has been put in accusation. In Spanish, likewise, it’s ¡Trump ha sido acusado! - Trump has been accused. And in Italian, it’s Trump è stato messo sotto accusa! - Trump has been put under accusation.

Some languages have created a native form in which the English peeks through: There’s Azerbaijani, for example: impichated. Filipio translates it: Si Trump ay na-impeach! Luxembourgish: Den Trump ass impeachéiert ginn!  Maltese: Trump kien impeached! Thai: ทรัมป์ถูก impeached! And my favorite in this special list has to be Uzbek: Trump impichated! Well, OK, second favorite. My favorite favorite has to be Yiddish: טראַמפּ איז ימפּיטשט! which turns out to be, if you can read the Hebrew letters: “Trump iz impitsht!”

So listen up, masters of dirty politics Lindsey Graham and Mitch McConnell, you who have declared that you will not keep your oath to follow the Constitution and carry out a fair trial following the impeachment process in the House of Representatives, as required by law. The eyes of the world are on you. You may win the battle, but you are not going to win the war. 

OK, that's a bit of bravado.  How do I know who’s going to win this civil war between those committed to facts and those committed to a Pied Piper?

One can only hope.

I watched the impeachment hearings all the way through. Was impressed as hell by some of the speeches - Steny Hoyer's, for example. And sobered by the willingness of the Republicans to follow the leader in their party-line argument that Trump may not be a nice guy, but he's not deserving of impeachment. I don't have a high opinion of politicians, so it doesn't surprise me that they are willing to do anything for power. That's the real goal of most of them, to exercise power in the favor of certain interests, and Democrats do this as readily as Republicans do, of course. But this struck me as a particularly craven display of partisanship. To admit that Trump is a nasty piece of work, somebody known to be “cruel, mean-spirited, and spiteful” and at the same time declare that since he has made us all rich, we should get behind him, no matter what.

Not America's finest moment, this, when half the governing body tells us money is the justification for excusing all of Trumps misdeeds. Never mind that what they're saying has no connection with reality. We're continuing to generate wealth for the country, but it's going into the hands of a limited bunch and all attempts to get to a more equitable distribution of that wealth are held up by this gang of thugs. No, never mind that. Just listen to the chutzpah of claiming that Trump's pressure on a foreign leader to scatter dirt on his chief democratic opponent in 2020 isn't impeachment-worthy.

You want to talk impeachment-worthy?  How about the time Trump stood in front of an audience, in front of television cameras, and flailed about, mimicking a handicapped reporter. Catholics for Trump tried to defend him by insisting this wasn't a case of him poking fun at handicapped people, that he does this for all sorts of people. Hilarious! And it tells you all you need to know, I think, about Catholics for Trump. 

To the claim that the Republicans are making,“You're only using this excuse to impeach the man because you've always hated him,” the response should be, “We can quibble over whether hate, loathe or despise is the best word choice. It remains irrelevant. Did it never occur to you that I might have the goods on this petty fellow and loathe him, as well? One of those things does not cancel out the other. The guy got caught with his pants down, was tried in the House of Representatives and found guilty on two counts of impeachment. Doesn't matter what we think of his character; the man did the things he was found guilty of. And for that I think we should be glad. There's a joke going around on Facebook which runs, “Is it Happy Impeachment or Merry Impeachment - I don't want to offend anyone.” If you ask me, I'd suggest we use Joyous.


And I appreciate it, Nancy, that you have to keep your caucus in line and not let them forget impeachment is a solemn occasion, and not one for rejoicing. But that's a code of behavior appropriate to your world.

In my world, I'm for popping a few champagne corks.

*               *               *

And for my nerdy friends who like to play with language, here's the complete list of translations Big Brother Google is willing to provide. Since I don't have the capacity to assess the accuracy of all 100+ translations, I leave it to you to put right whatever errors you may find. We can start, for example, with this super-curiosity of using a translation from Livy, Book 2, to answer the question for Latin, which I know can't be right.

English - Trump has been impeached
Afrikaans - Trump is toegeslaan
Albanian - Trump është fajësuar!
Amharic - መለከት ተሰቅሏል!
Arabic - لقد تم عزل ترامب!
Armenian - Թրամփին իմպիչմենտ է տրվել
Azerbaijani - Trump impichated edildi!
Basque - Trump inposatu egin da!
Belarusian - Трамп быў абстраляны!
Bengali - ট্রাম্পকে অভিযুক্ত করা হয়েছে!
Bosnian - Trump je zastario!
Bulgarian - Тръмп беше възпрепятстван!
Catalan - Trump s'ha imposat.
Cebuano - Na-impeach si Trump!
Chichewa - Lipenga lanyengedwa!
Chinese (Simplified) - 特朗普被弹!!
Chinese (Traditional) -特朗普被彈!!
Corsican - Trump hè statu impegnatu!
Croatian - Trump je zastario!
Czech - Trump byl obžalován!
Danish - Trump er blevet impeached!
Dutch - Trump is afgezet!
Esperanto - Trump senmiksiĝis!
Estonian - Trump on vangi mõistetud!
Filipino - Si Trump ay na-impeach!
Finnish - Trump on hylätty!
French - Trump a été mis en accusation!
Frisian - Trump is impeached!
Galician - Trump foi imperado!
Georgian - ტრამპი იმპიჩია! (pr. "Trump impeachy-a")
German - Trump wurde angeklagt (impeached)!
Greek - Το τράμπα έχει εμπλακεί!
Gujarati - ટ્રમ્પને મહાભિયોગ કરવામાં આવ્યા છે!
Haitian Creole - Trump te akize!
Hausa - An tsige Trump!
Hawaiian - Ua hoʻopuka ʻia ʻo Trump!
Hebrew - טראמפ הודחה
Hindi - ट्रम्प पर महाभियोग लगाया गया!
Hmong - Trump tau raug liam!
Hungarian - Trumpot megtámadták!
Icelandic - Trump hefur verið impeached!
Igbo - Ekpesiela Trump!
Indonesian - Trump telah dimakzulkan!
Irish - Trumpadh Trump!
Italian - Trump è stato messo sotto accusa!
Japanese - トランプは弾劾されました!
Javanese - Trump wis dicampuri!
Kannada - ಟ್ರಂಪ್ ಅವರನ್ನು ದೋಷಾರೋಪಣೆ ಮಾಡಲಾಗಿದೆ!
Kazakh - Трампқа импичмент жарияланды!
Khmer - Trump ត្រូវបានគេចោទប្រកាន់!
Korean - 트럼프는 탄핵되었습니다!
Kurdish (Kurmanji) - Trump hat imkandin!
Kyrgyz - Trump айыпталышы келет!
Lao - ທ່ານ Trump ໄດ້ຖືກກ່າວຟ້ອງ!
Latin - Trump est patrum, reos diceres! (from Livy, History of Rome 2)
Latvian - Trump ir apsūdzēts!
Lithuanian - Trumpas apkaltintas!
Luxembourgish - Den Trump ass impeachéiert ginn!
Macedonian - Трамп е отповикан!
Malagasy - I Trump dia nanala!
Malay - Trump telah dicabar!
Malayalam - ട്രംപിനെ ഇംപീച്ച് ചെയ്തു!
Maltese - Trump kien impeached!
Maori - Kua whakahawea a Trump!
Marathi - ट्रम्प यांना निषेध करण्यात आला आहे!
Mongolian - Трамп импичмент хийлээ!
Myanmar - Trump စွပ်စွဲပြစ်တင်ခဲ့တာ!
Nepali - ट्रम्पलाई निषेध गरिएको छ!
Norwegian - Trump har blitt impeached!
Pashto - ټرمپ معیوب شوی دی!
Persian (Farsi) - ترامپ استیضاح شد
Polish - Trump został oskarżony!
Portuguese - Trump foi impugnado!
Punjabi - ਟਰੰਪ ਨੂੰ ਪ੍ਰਭਾਵਿਤ ਕੀਤਾ ਗਿਆ ਹੈ!
Romanian - Trump a fost impus!
Russian - Трамп был привлечен к ответственности!
Samoan - Ua matua vaivai le pu!
Scots Gaelic - Chaidh Trump a thoirt a-steach!
Serbian - Трумп је застарио!
Sesotho - Trump e kenyellelitsoe!
Shona - VaTrump vakaverengerwa!
Sindhi - ٽرپ وڌايو ويو آهي
Sinhala - ට්‍රම්ප් දෝෂාභියෝගයට ලක්ව ඇත!
Slovak - Trump bol obvinený!
Slovenian - Trump se je prijel!
Somali - Trump waa la ixtiraamaa!
Spanish -¡Trump ha sido acusado!
Sundanese - Trump parantos diusahakeun!
Swahili - Trump ameshikwa!
Swedish - Trump har blivit impeach!
Tajik - Трамп импичмент шудааст!
Tamil - டிரம்ப் குற்றஞ்சாட்டப்பட்டார்!
Telegu - ట్రంప్‌ను అభిశంసించారు!
Thai - ทรัมป์ถูก impeached!
Turkish - Trump suçlandı!
Ukrainian - Трамп пересторожений!
Urdu - ٹرمپ کو بے دخل کردیا گیا!
Uzbek - Trump impichated!
Vietnamese - Trump đã bị luận tội!
Welsh - Mae Trump wedi cael ei orfodi!
Xhosa - I-Trump ifakiwe!
Yiddish - טראַמפּ איז ימפּיטשט! (Trump iz impitsht)
Yoruba - Wọn ti fi Trump silẹ!
Zulu - UTrump ubethelwe!


Thursday, December 12, 2019

It's me - not a duck


Здравствуй Kоля! Папа дома?
Zdravstvuy, Kolya! Papa doma?
(Hi there, Kolya! Is papa home?)

Папи нет. Мама дома.
Papi nyet. Mama doma.
(Papa’s not, but mama’s home.)

Russian classes at the DLI began each morning with a recitation of the dialogue we had memorized overnight. The dialogues were a brilliant teaching device. They embedded the grammar points they were about to teach us into the dialogue, so you had the pattern in the brain when they launched into an explanation in the second hour and drills in the third hour. The teaching method was an effective one and the desire not to look like a damn fool was motivation enough to make us perform well, for the most part. Years later, when getting together with colleagues from the day, we’d entertain each other by pulling out a line and seeing who could come up with the next one. The early lesson from above was something you could guarantee everybody would remember. Somebody would say, “Zdravstvuy, Kolya, Papa doma?” and you were pretty much guaranteed to hear, “Papi nyet. Mama doma!”

Another line from a dialogue that stuck with me, from further along in the course, was built around a duck hunting scene. The line was, Не стреляйте. Это я, не утка! (Ne strelyaitye; Eta ya, ne utka! - Don’t shoot; it’s me, not a duck!). Having seared that into memory in 1963, it still served me well years later when I was getting my doctorate at Stanford in the 1980s.  I was having lunch in the cafeteria one day when the people sitting to my back at the next table were listening to a visiting Russian scientist telling a story.  He was doing fine until he stumbled around looking for the right word in English. “Utka…utka…” he said. “Duck,” I said.

You could hear a pin drop. Too late I realized I had done something pretty stupid. First of all, I had revealed that I was listening in on their conversation. And secondly, it’s likely the guy was going to spend the rest of his time at Stanford wondering about the CIA spy they had brought in to keep tabs on him. I sheepishly tried to talk my way out of the embarrassing scene. I never was sure they bought it.

I was among the large contingent of folk assigned to Berlin after graduation. Berlin, right plunk in the middle of the Russian Zone, by now called the German Democratic Republic, had in the American Sector, in the Southwest part of the city, a huge mountain that had been built up of rubble from the war. “Teufelsberg” (Devil’s Mountain) it was called. On top of Teufelsberg was a cluster of quonset huts jutting out from a central point, each one housing “spies” working on separate projects, listening in on what the “commies” were up to. One was the Russian military section, another the German political section, a third housed the Brits who listened in on the Poles. I was assigned, of course, to the Russian military section, along with several of my friends from R-12-100 and R-12-101 at Monterey. To the technical crew, the guys who maintained the radios and antennas and worked with Morse code, we were known as the “Monterey Marys.” Officially, the military referred to us as “linguists.” The lack of language sophistication that enabled them to confuse someone who spoke a foreign language with a specialist in the field of language study bugged me no end. I didn’t mind being called a “Mary” at all, but for some reason being called a “linguist” really got under my skin. I was a linguist, in fact. That wasn’t the point. The point was they were calling me a linguist for the wrong reason!

Which says a whole lot, I suppose, about what a tight-ass I was in those days.

By the end of the first month, I had come to believe that I was going to lose my mind. After a year at Monterey where I had developed sufficient proficiency in Russian to be able to follow Shaky Jake’s lectures on Tchaikovsky, here I was listening to Russian soldiers on the radio counting up to ten and back down again.  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. On an on all through the day.

They were keeping the lines open and in working order in case the Americans invaded. They had to keep talking and soon ran out of idle chatter, so they simply counted to ten.

The idea of Monterey Marys marching through the Brandenburg Gate and down Unter den Linden into Alexanderplatz had to be one of the most ridiculous notions ever conceived by the mind of man or woman, but we soon realized the Russian military was never going to take second place to the American military when it came to absurdity and paranoia. 

I took my headphones off one day and announced that I was done. I would not be listening to Russians count to ten any more.

Whereupon I was arrested and removed from the base for three months until they could get me an appointment with a shrink in Frankfurt to see if I was mentally stable enough to withstand a court martial.

When the day finally came, the shrink asked me if I had ever wanted to have sex with my mother or my father or my sister, and when I said no he pronounced me “arbeitsfähig.” That’s not the word he used. It means “capable of work” and it’s the word the Nazis stamped on Jewish documents to signal a prisoner who could be worked to death rather than eliminated immediately. I know. A bit on the dramatic side. But that’s what I had to work with in those days.

By a great stroke of good fortune, they had just put a new young captain in charge of my unit and when I was brought before him for a decision on what to do with me, he revealed his Minnesota good Lutheran boy roots. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked, inviting me to help him in his new job.

In the three months’ wait to see the shrink I had gotten to know the other misfits hanging around the day room watching television and playing flamenco guitar and reading Thomas Pynchon. The guitarist was a German “linguist” and through him I got to meet the civilians who ran the German political section and learned they were having difficulty.  Russian was, in the army’s eyes, a “hard” language - ergo takes twelve months to learn, but German was an “easy” language which one could be expected to get under one’s belt in merely six. Problem is the Marys who had studied German were not properly primed for the Saxon dialect of the speakers from Dresden, Leipzig, and Karl Marx Stadt (today’s Chemnitz). I had grown up speaking with a German mother and grandmother and although Saxon was not familiar to me, it didn’t take me long to realize I could fake it. And soon understand it, actually.

“Put me in Violet section (the German political section),” I said to the kid still wet behind the ears (a fact for which I will be thankful till my dying day). The civilians were glad to have me. In a couple weeks I went from jailbird material to guy in charge.

I bade farewell to Russian and it fell to tatters. If I could do anything over, I’d go back and not let that happen. Don’t know what I’d give up in life to keep the Russian going, but I’d like to think I’d manage somehow.

I miss it. Thanks to the internet, all manner of things Russian are at my fingertips, and I do tune in from time to time. These days the vocabulary I encounter is much more the балетная терминология (ballet terminology) than words like проволочное заграждение (provolochnoye zagrazhdyenie - barbed wire entanglements) of military terminology.

And that, of course, is just the way I like it.


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