Travels With Becky

Depends on how you look at it

Doris at MainStreet Bookends recalled traveling to Boston to see the Red Sox many years ago.  On the way home, her uncle said to her grandfather, “I think we’re lost.”  Grampa, with Yankee optimism, replied, “Yuh, but we’re making good time.”  

How does that translate?

At MainStreet Bookends in Warner, Anastasia suggested an addition to Headin’ for the Rhubarb: A New Hampshire Dictionary (Kinda):  Gararge, as in, “Honey, I’ll be in the gararge changing the oil in the Jeep.”  She married a New Hampshire person 18 years ago and still wonders at some of his pronunciations.

Linda told a language story gathered during her biking trip at Petit du Nord in Quebec.   Rene grew up in a logging family.  He and his father would log all day then drive the harvest out on the skidder at dusk.  Rene, whose first language was French,  spoke impeccable English, and Linda asked how he had learned the second language so well.  Turns out when he was ten years old his father sent him, at his request, to English-speaking camp.  He studied hard and learned well, being highly motivated.

“What motivated you?” Linda wanted to know.

Rene said one day he and his dad went to leave the woods with their load, when they came upon a car, with flatlander license plates, blocking the road.  They could not get around it, so had to abandon their skidder and walk nine miles into town in the dark.

“That’s why I had to learn English,” Rene said.  “Next time something like that happened, by Jesus, I would be able to curse the son-of-a-gun out in his native tongue!”