Como Se Dicé?

Really and truly, I have much too much to write about, but thanks to the HIPPA privacy laws I am forbidden to share any of my nursing stories in the event I should reveal the identity of one of my beloved patients, thus forcing me to find something a bit more entertaining to report. Since the majority of my life revolves around my hospital activities, I am left with very little to report. My story bank is quite pathetically empty, except for just recently.

Yesterday I had the privilege of meeting a few of my elder sister's Polish acquaintances. Yet before I introduce them to you I must ask for your pardon and forgiveness for I know all too well that I'm about to mangle and disfigure their names and respective spellings. The first of the three I met was Joe. At first I was sincerely convinced that Joe was anything but Polish for when he reached out to shake my hand and greet be I was unexpectedly slapped in the face by his English accent. Turns out that Joe is a walking, talking oxymoron, or more simply put, an English Polishman. Go figure.

The second of the bunch that I met was Eric. Of course this is not the proper spelling or pronounciation of his name, for which I am now regretful for not learning while in his presence. Yet this is what my American ears heard when first introduced to me.

Finally, and I am not even going to try to remember his name, is Peter's father, who really I was quite shocked to meet. I did not want his first impression of me to be insulting but I was all to compelled to inform him that his son looked nothing like him. Not even a minor chipping off the ole block. Nada. But I refrained and smiled and shook his hand, as without hesistation he commented to his companions in Polish that I sound just like Dolly when I speak. Funny thing, I know very minimal Polish and yet I can tell when people are talking about me, and thus surprised them when I confessed I knew they were talking about me.

The remainder of my day was spent attempting to maintain my patience as the three, in addition to Leon, rambled back and forth in Polish. Leon must have realized I felt left out and therefore requested the others speak in English, much to the chagrin of Peter's father, who clearly would have rather spoken in Polish.

As I wined and dined with my Polish amigos over some pierogies they invited me to join them at the Imax Theather that evening for a showing of the Wild Safari. I kindly accepted and spent the remainder of the afternoon looking at photos with Leon, listening to The Young and the Restless tales of each of the people depicted.

5:00 PM rolled around and Joe and Eric and I loaded into the car, with me their navigator into Chattanooga. Leon and Peter's father for one reason or another decided to decline their presence at this particular outting. Thus I directed Joe in and out of Chattanooga.

On our way downtown, as our car whizzed under the sign reading, "Birmingham" the two repeated it to themselves and then requested that I ". . . . .say it in American." I repeated the word to which Joe let out a laugh and repeated it as I had, emphasizing the "A" in "ham" with a sharp and harsh distinctness in comparison to his smooth English accent. "I dearly hope I don't really sound like that", was my initial thought.

Speeding ahead, Imax was over and we were headed to find a bookstore for Joe as he was searching for book software to use for his doctorate studies. We drove from here to there looking for a place that Leon had told us about. Once we stumbled upon it, literally, I had to exclaim, "Good grief!" Leon could have just told me it was in such and such a place. I would have known where he was talking about. To this Eric questioned from the back seat, "How do you say in English, 'Good grief'?" To this I knew he really meant, "What does it mean?" To this I paused and thought. Ah ha! Dolly is always saying in Polish "chicken." I am not even going to try to spell it out in Polish. She'll know what I mean. I explained it was something I say when frustrated. Although I knew I would confuse him more, I asked if he had ever seen the Peanuts and Charlie Brown cartoon, to which he replied yes. Well that is what Charlie Brown says, "Good grief!" He still did not seem to understand completely, or maybe it was just me. Thus concluded my English lesson for the day.