“On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish!” Really? Just what is Irish? Is it the ruffian who flung his elbow in my face as he passed me in Killkenny? Or is it the people named McGree who invited me to their home for dinner? Is it the parish priest who let me look through church records? Or is it the woman who smoked in the no-smoking car on the train back to Dublin. Just like any other group, ethnic, religious, or skin hue, there are many different behaviors from the generous to the hateful.
One St. Patrick’s Day, my mother proclaimed that we were “Orange-Irish”. I don’t think she had a clue. If she knew the ancestry of my paternal grandfather, she certainly didn’t pass it on to me. Neither did my German-born paternal grandmother.
From all the genealogical research I’ve done, it seems that the surname Magree, McGree, or MacGree comes from Ireland. However, from all the genealogical research I’ve done, I have found no ancestor in my male line that was definitively born in Ireland.
The closest was my great grandfather, John J.R. Magree, who variously claimed to be born in Brooklyn or England. In the last year or two I found that he was born in Liverpool of an American and a woman living in Liverpool. Her name was Margaret Pope. Her father was a customs officer, and so I assume she was not born in Ireland.
John James Richard Magree’s father was John Cornelius Magree, who generally went by John C. Magree. I did find a record of his getting his seaman’s certificate in 1833 at the age of 15. In the 1850 census he was listed first in a crew of a ship in New York or Brooklyn. In 1851 he was the master of the ship Ivanhoe bringing about 400 immigrants from Liverpool to New York. Most of the passengers were Irish. I did not find a Margaret Pope or Margaret Magree in the passenger list.
I did link John C. Magree to his father twice. John C.’s marriage document named his father as Vincent Magree. The 1830 Census did list Vincent Magree’s household as containing a male about 12 years old.
With Ancestor,com, I can find no record other than these two of Vincent Magree. I wonder if he (or others) anglicized his name from Vincenzo Magri to Vincent Magree. I have found records where a Magri has also been named Magree. It’s possible that my paternal line comes from Italy; one relative told me that one of uncles looked “Spanish”. I do know that I was one of the few “curly-haired” males in my family.
Just who are these “Irish” that the English of another time called a “race”? We do know they were Celts who drove out another group. Was this displaced group the “fairies”? But then the Vikings came raping and pillaging. After that another wave of Vikings came, but they were called Normans (Norse men). But the Normans had settled in France, so are the Irish French? Partly! Names like Fitzpatrick come from the French Fils-Patrick, meaning son of Patrick. Then the English came a-pillaging and taking land. This invasion was so devastating that many Irish left for the Americas and Australia.
When the descendants of the Irish immigrants to Australia come to the United States, what do we call them? Australians!
I do know that many grandchildren of people who immigrated to other countries are often labelled with their ancestry, but I don’t know if these labels persist for so many generations as they do in the U.S. I enjoy springing the question “What nationality is the King of Sweden?” By American reckoning he is French. He is a descendant of one of Napoleon’s marshals: Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte! Some often respond that Queen Elizabeth II is German. She’s a descendant of Prince Albert of Saxony.
What are people who immigrate to the U.S. or their descendants called when they go back the “Old Country”? Americans! I read one Swedish novel where a man worked in Chicago for several years, came back to his home town, and was labelled as “American”. I read another where a second-generation woman came back, could hardly speak Swedish, and was called “American”.
I was an “Ugly American” in Europe for six years. If you read “The Ugly American” you know that he was the good guy in the local view and the “bad guy” in the expatriate community. “The Ugly American” learned the language and customs of the host country, and he didn’t spend all of his time in the “country club” American community.
I worked on learning the languages of the countries I visited and used them both in speaking and reading. A few others didn’t even make an attempt and were miserable. In fact, one European colleague called me a “Northern European” because I worked at blending in.
But I can’t resist being the other kind of “Ugly American” in this country. When someone says they are Swedish or Italian, I ask “Talar du svenska?” or “Parlai italiano?” “Do you speak Swedish?” or “Do you speak Italian?” Generally the response is either befuddlement or a negative reply.
So, this assumed descendant of some Irish immigrant won’t be drinking green beer on St. Patrick’s Day. As much as he likes Guinness or Smithwick, he will probably be drinking a couple of glasses of Italian wine. Sláinte or cin-cin!
Also printed in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2016-03-17 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2016/03/17/6888_i_am_american_not_irish.
P.S. About green beer and other "Irish" fare, see http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/18/dining/corned-beef-and-cabbage-not-so-irish-historians-say.html.
Showing posts with label German. Show all posts
Showing posts with label German. Show all posts
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Sprechen vous svenska?
Let me guess. You may be one of those who claim to never have been good at foreign languages, but I bet you know the meaning of each of the words in the title of this article. Not only that, you probably know which language each is from.
Maybe the reason you are “not good” at foreign languages is that you didn’t care for the way you were taught a particular language. Maybe you rebelled at the way it was taught and didn’t let it soak in and use it.
I myself have had mixed feelings about each of my language experiences. For example, I forgot almost everything I learned in high school Latin, but I retained enough of my two years of college French to read books, magazines, and newspapers and to have simple conversations.
The first time it was really important was when I transferred to Europe as a Univac employee. Supposedly I was to move to Italy. I got an Italian grammar book and started studying from it. “Oh, wait, before you go to Italy you will spend several weeks in Basel, Switzerland.” So, I got a German grammar book and started studying German.
I had all my travel arrangements made for me. The last leg was a train from Zurich to Basel. When I got to Basel, there was nobody to meet me. Where do I go from here on a Saturday? I knew we were to work at Sandoz, the big pharmaceutical company, and so I looked up Sandoz at a public phone. When I reached Sandoz the guard spoke only German and French. As best I could I explained my situation in French. He said he would look up the Univac people in the computer room. Within an hour or so one of the hardware guys came and got me. It was only once I was in the hotel that I met the software guys I was to work with.
I have many anecdotes about learning German (Hochdeutsch) and Schweizer Deutsch, two different languages. Ja jo! Wie goht’s!
One, I learned enough German to read some of the newspapers and to read the directions on starting the computer - drucken… (push…)
Two, I didn’t learn enough German to get in and out of East Berlin on my own. The end story is that I had ten East German marks I was not supposed to leave with. My Swiss companions were in a discussion with the guard behind the counter. I kept swiveling my head towards whoever was speaking. Finally, the guard looked at me and said, “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” I replied, “Nein!” That cracked everyone up. After I put my ten marks in the Red Cross jar, we were on our way out through Checkpoint Charlie.
When I finally arrived in Italy, I slowly learned more Italian. It didn’t help that our work language was English. I did start reading Italian newspapers and books and speaking Italian where I could. I spoke it to my barber and I think I bought my car using Italian. One difficulty was at some office where I wasn’t getting across to the clerks. One exclaimed, “Questi stranieri!” (“These foreigners”). I understood her, but I don’t remember if I made any reply.
After two years in Italy, I requested and got a transfer to Sweden. Again I bought a grammar book or two and started reading newspapers. Newspapers are wonderful for learning foreign languages because of the names and events in the news and the large number of similar words. By my second year in Sweden, I disappointed a small group I was to supervise by stating that we would speak Swedish. My rationale was they had many chances to speak English, I had few for Swedish. After a year, many of my colleagues said I spoke “flyttande Svenska” (fluent Swedish), even those who didn’t report to me. On the other hand, there were many who disagreed.
When I came back to the States, I decided to take German at a community college. I added a couple more semesters when I returned to Minnesota. Darned if I can remember much of what I learned in class.
This same phenomenon happened when I took Russian long before I left for Europe. I still had notions of getting a PhD, and one of the requirements was to have some familiarity with two foreign languages. I took a year of Russian in summer school. I did B or better work, but I didn’t enjoy it. The basis for each lesson was a short conversation we were supposed to memorize and recite with a classmate. I’ll never forget the first sentence of the first conversation: “Привет Нина! Куда ви идёте?” “Hi, Nina! Where are you going?” I didn’t go back for a second year. For awhile my Russian handwriting was better than my English handwriting. I still do recognize many Russian characters, but I have made no real effort to study Russian anymore other than look at the headlines on some online Russian newspapers.
Over the years I’ve put a little bit of effort into learning some bits and pieces of Finnish, Ukrainian, Greek, Dutch, Icelandic, Serbo-Croatian, Spanish, and Japanese. I’ll finish this with my Japanese joke: “Watashi-wa nihongo-ga wakarimasen.” I say it well enough that Japanese relatives laugh at the contradiction: “I don’t understand Japanese.”
If you’re over 50 and enjoy languages as much as Mel does, join him for “Jolly Polyglots” in the winter quarter of University for Seniors at UMD.
This was also published in the Reader Weekly, 2014-08-28 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/08/28/3970_sprechen_vous_svenska
Maybe the reason you are “not good” at foreign languages is that you didn’t care for the way you were taught a particular language. Maybe you rebelled at the way it was taught and didn’t let it soak in and use it.
I myself have had mixed feelings about each of my language experiences. For example, I forgot almost everything I learned in high school Latin, but I retained enough of my two years of college French to read books, magazines, and newspapers and to have simple conversations.
The first time it was really important was when I transferred to Europe as a Univac employee. Supposedly I was to move to Italy. I got an Italian grammar book and started studying from it. “Oh, wait, before you go to Italy you will spend several weeks in Basel, Switzerland.” So, I got a German grammar book and started studying German.
I had all my travel arrangements made for me. The last leg was a train from Zurich to Basel. When I got to Basel, there was nobody to meet me. Where do I go from here on a Saturday? I knew we were to work at Sandoz, the big pharmaceutical company, and so I looked up Sandoz at a public phone. When I reached Sandoz the guard spoke only German and French. As best I could I explained my situation in French. He said he would look up the Univac people in the computer room. Within an hour or so one of the hardware guys came and got me. It was only once I was in the hotel that I met the software guys I was to work with.
I have many anecdotes about learning German (Hochdeutsch) and Schweizer Deutsch, two different languages. Ja jo! Wie goht’s!
One, I learned enough German to read some of the newspapers and to read the directions on starting the computer - drucken… (push…)
Two, I didn’t learn enough German to get in and out of East Berlin on my own. The end story is that I had ten East German marks I was not supposed to leave with. My Swiss companions were in a discussion with the guard behind the counter. I kept swiveling my head towards whoever was speaking. Finally, the guard looked at me and said, “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” I replied, “Nein!” That cracked everyone up. After I put my ten marks in the Red Cross jar, we were on our way out through Checkpoint Charlie.
When I finally arrived in Italy, I slowly learned more Italian. It didn’t help that our work language was English. I did start reading Italian newspapers and books and speaking Italian where I could. I spoke it to my barber and I think I bought my car using Italian. One difficulty was at some office where I wasn’t getting across to the clerks. One exclaimed, “Questi stranieri!” (“These foreigners”). I understood her, but I don’t remember if I made any reply.
After two years in Italy, I requested and got a transfer to Sweden. Again I bought a grammar book or two and started reading newspapers. Newspapers are wonderful for learning foreign languages because of the names and events in the news and the large number of similar words. By my second year in Sweden, I disappointed a small group I was to supervise by stating that we would speak Swedish. My rationale was they had many chances to speak English, I had few for Swedish. After a year, many of my colleagues said I spoke “flyttande Svenska” (fluent Swedish), even those who didn’t report to me. On the other hand, there were many who disagreed.
When I came back to the States, I decided to take German at a community college. I added a couple more semesters when I returned to Minnesota. Darned if I can remember much of what I learned in class.
This same phenomenon happened when I took Russian long before I left for Europe. I still had notions of getting a PhD, and one of the requirements was to have some familiarity with two foreign languages. I took a year of Russian in summer school. I did B or better work, but I didn’t enjoy it. The basis for each lesson was a short conversation we were supposed to memorize and recite with a classmate. I’ll never forget the first sentence of the first conversation: “Привет Нина! Куда ви идёте?” “Hi, Nina! Where are you going?” I didn’t go back for a second year. For awhile my Russian handwriting was better than my English handwriting. I still do recognize many Russian characters, but I have made no real effort to study Russian anymore other than look at the headlines on some online Russian newspapers.
Over the years I’ve put a little bit of effort into learning some bits and pieces of Finnish, Ukrainian, Greek, Dutch, Icelandic, Serbo-Croatian, Spanish, and Japanese. I’ll finish this with my Japanese joke: “Watashi-wa nihongo-ga wakarimasen.” I say it well enough that Japanese relatives laugh at the contradiction: “I don’t understand Japanese.”
If you’re over 50 and enjoy languages as much as Mel does, join him for “Jolly Polyglots” in the winter quarter of University for Seniors at UMD.
This was also published in the Reader Weekly, 2014-08-28 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/08/28/3970_sprechen_vous_svenska
Monday, February 04, 2013
My nationality is American
A favorite conversational item of many Americans is "What nationality are you?" This happens often because we are a nation of immigrants from elsewhere or the descendants of immigrants. But how is it that the nationality of someone from Canada is Canadian and from Australia is Australian?
One of my favorite comebacks is "What nationality is the King of Sweden?" Following the male line back, he's French; he's descended from Marechal Bernadotte, one of Napoleon's marshals.
As for me, my paternal grandmother is the only immigrant among my grandparents; she was born in Silesia, at that time part of Germany. The other three were all born in the United States. As I hardly knew my grandmother, I didn't have much German influence.
Of my great-grandparents, four were born in Germany, three were born in England, and one supposedly was born in Brooklyn. More about him later. I never knew my German great-grandparents, and we never had any German traditions in our house. I only knew my mother's paternal grandmother, and the only thing English I experienced from her was tea, with Carnation milk!
As for the supposedly Brooklyn-born great-grandfather, I've found some indications that he probably was born in Liverpool, England. Most of the records for him give his name as John J.R. Magree, but Brooklyn has no birth certificate for him. I did find two Liverpool records for the child John James Robert Magree. His mother may have been Irish or English, but his father was John Cornelius Magree, probably the John C. Magree who was the master of the Ship Ivanhoe bringing immigrants from Liverpool to New York in Jan 1851. There was no John J.R. Magree in the passenger list. Interestingly, on his marriage record, John C.'s father was Vinsent Magree [sic], Vincent Magree was in Baltimore in the 1830 Census.
Other than possibly John C.s marriage in Liverpool, I have found no ancestor that I can link to Ireland.
My only Irish link to the name Magree is from Magree's I contacted in Australia. They can trace their Magree ancestors to Kilkenny, Ireland, and even to some specific pieces of land.
Interestingly, on one St. Patrick's Day, my mother said "We are Orange Irish". Other than her in-laws, she knew nothing of my father's grandparents.
Having lived in Italy for two years and in Sweden for four years, I like to kid that I am more Italian than many Americans that call themselves Italian and likewise for "Swedes".
One of my favorite comebacks is "What nationality is the King of Sweden?" Following the male line back, he's French; he's descended from Marechal Bernadotte, one of Napoleon's marshals.
As for me, my paternal grandmother is the only immigrant among my grandparents; she was born in Silesia, at that time part of Germany. The other three were all born in the United States. As I hardly knew my grandmother, I didn't have much German influence.
Of my great-grandparents, four were born in Germany, three were born in England, and one supposedly was born in Brooklyn. More about him later. I never knew my German great-grandparents, and we never had any German traditions in our house. I only knew my mother's paternal grandmother, and the only thing English I experienced from her was tea, with Carnation milk!
As for the supposedly Brooklyn-born great-grandfather, I've found some indications that he probably was born in Liverpool, England. Most of the records for him give his name as John J.R. Magree, but Brooklyn has no birth certificate for him. I did find two Liverpool records for the child John James Robert Magree. His mother may have been Irish or English, but his father was John Cornelius Magree, probably the John C. Magree who was the master of the Ship Ivanhoe bringing immigrants from Liverpool to New York in Jan 1851. There was no John J.R. Magree in the passenger list. Interestingly, on his marriage record, John C.'s father was Vinsent Magree [sic], Vincent Magree was in Baltimore in the 1830 Census.
Other than possibly John C.s marriage in Liverpool, I have found no ancestor that I can link to Ireland.
My only Irish link to the name Magree is from Magree's I contacted in Australia. They can trace their Magree ancestors to Kilkenny, Ireland, and even to some specific pieces of land.
Interestingly, on one St. Patrick's Day, my mother said "We are Orange Irish". Other than her in-laws, she knew nothing of my father's grandparents.
Having lived in Italy for two years and in Sweden for four years, I like to kid that I am more Italian than many Americans that call themselves Italian and likewise for "Swedes".
Friday, January 20, 2012
Some thoughts on the Tuskegee Airmen
Today, George Lucas' "Red Tails" is opening. It is a film about the Tuskegee Airmen, the black pilots in WWII who were cheered by bomber pilots in Europe and jeered by white citizens in the South.
Both the Duluth News Tribune (http://www.duluthnewstribune.com/event/article/id/220474/group/homepage/) and the Star Tribune (http://www.startribune.com/local/137757468.html) have articles on the only surviving Tuskegee Airman living in Minnesota, Joe Gomer.
I know Joe Gomer but I haven't seen him for a while. He and his wife attended the Duluth Superior Symphony Orchestra Concerts and plays at the UMD Theatre. I don't know if they still do because we stopped going to the DSSO concerts and we switched nights for the UMD Theatre. I do know that many people respect them and would greet them at both events.
We tried to help them at the Duluth Airport a few years ago. They arrived on an incoming flight about the same time my wife did. It was a night that taxis were scarce. I had our Prius and couldn't take them and their luggage with us. So, I drove Joe to his house to get one of their cars. Things didn't work out and so I drove him back. They eventually did get a taxi home. I don't know why I didn't take them and then come back for my wife and her luggage. Hindsight is 20/20.
The Duluth News Tribune article contains information about a proposed statue of Joe Gomer to be displayed at the Duluth Airport. I don't know. I kinda think we're too eager to create monuments in stone or words to a long list of people who are heroes to one group or another.
Roger Ebert wrote a review of "Red Tails". He thinks it is entertaining but could have had more about "the atmosphere of the Jim Crow South". He had a statement that disturbed me two ways:
"In Spike Lee's "Miracle at St. Anna" (2008), which has some of that anger, there is a flashback to a scene of black American soldiers in the Deep South being refused service by a restaurant that does accept Nazis from a nearby POW camp."
One disturbing part is that restaurants would serve German prisoners, but not black American soldiers. But it also disturbs me that so many writers call all German military personnel "Nazis". They weren't; in fact, many hated the Nazis. Watch "Das Boot" or read Carol Bly's "Shelter Half".
Both the Duluth News Tribune (http://www.duluthnewstribune.com/event/article/id/220474/group/homepage/) and the Star Tribune (http://www.startribune.com/local/137757468.html) have articles on the only surviving Tuskegee Airman living in Minnesota, Joe Gomer.
I know Joe Gomer but I haven't seen him for a while. He and his wife attended the Duluth Superior Symphony Orchestra Concerts and plays at the UMD Theatre. I don't know if they still do because we stopped going to the DSSO concerts and we switched nights for the UMD Theatre. I do know that many people respect them and would greet them at both events.
We tried to help them at the Duluth Airport a few years ago. They arrived on an incoming flight about the same time my wife did. It was a night that taxis were scarce. I had our Prius and couldn't take them and their luggage with us. So, I drove Joe to his house to get one of their cars. Things didn't work out and so I drove him back. They eventually did get a taxi home. I don't know why I didn't take them and then come back for my wife and her luggage. Hindsight is 20/20.
The Duluth News Tribune article contains information about a proposed statue of Joe Gomer to be displayed at the Duluth Airport. I don't know. I kinda think we're too eager to create monuments in stone or words to a long list of people who are heroes to one group or another.
Roger Ebert wrote a review of "Red Tails". He thinks it is entertaining but could have had more about "the atmosphere of the Jim Crow South". He had a statement that disturbed me two ways:
"In Spike Lee's "Miracle at St. Anna" (2008), which has some of that anger, there is a flashback to a scene of black American soldiers in the Deep South being refused service by a restaurant that does accept Nazis from a nearby POW camp."
One disturbing part is that restaurants would serve German prisoners, but not black American soldiers. But it also disturbs me that so many writers call all German military personnel "Nazis". They weren't; in fact, many hated the Nazis. Watch "Das Boot" or read Carol Bly's "Shelter Half".
Thursday, December 01, 2011
To my readers from around the world for the past week
Thank you!
Danke!
Спасибо!
Terima kasih/谢谢/Nandri
Thank you! Merci!
Terima kasih
תודה רבה
धन्यवाद
Дякю!
If you can't guess all the languages above, see the labels for some hints.
Danke!
Спасибо!
Terima kasih/谢谢/Nandri
Thank you! Merci!
Terima kasih
תודה רבה
धन्यवाद
Дякю!
If you can't guess all the languages above, see the labels for some hints.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
War of the words
In response to Germany's Transport Minister Peter Ramsauer suggesting that employees not use foreign words such as "der Laptop", U.S. Secretary of Transportation Ray LaHood has suggested that employees respond to fellow workers sneezes with "Bless you" rather than "Gesundheit".
"Der laptop? Nein, nein", Deutsches Presse-Agentur as reported by the Star Tribune, 2010-12-30
Hm! Has somebody started a rumor? If I go to either www.dpa.com or www.dpa.de and search for "laptop", I get "Kein Suchergebnisse" - "no search 'whatever'". Besides, the Star Tribune is not using richtig Deutsche; it should be "Der Laptop?" Nouns are almost always capitalized in German.
Mein Deutschekunnigheit? Nicht so gut! Ich habe zu viel vergessen:(
"Der laptop? Nein, nein", Deutsches Presse-Agentur as reported by the Star Tribune, 2010-12-30
Hm! Has somebody started a rumor? If I go to either www.dpa.com or www.dpa.de and search for "laptop", I get "Kein Suchergebnisse" - "no search 'whatever'". Besides, the Star Tribune is not using richtig Deutsche; it should be "Der Laptop?" Nouns are almost always capitalized in German.
Mein Deutschekunnigheit? Nicht so gut! Ich habe zu viel vergessen:(
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
You really are good at foreign languages
How often have you heard people say, "I never was any good with foreign languages!" But any of us who read a lot or listen a lot, know lots of foreign words and phrases as part of our own language.
Consider the following:
Oui, non, savoir faire, coup d'état, menu, restaurant, merci beaucoup, la plume de ma tante, père, mère, soirée, bon jour, monsieur, madame, mademoiselle, garçon, parlez vous français
Si, gracias, señor, señora, señorita, taco, burrito, chili, sombrero, serape, fiesta, siesta, madre, padre, muchacho, muchacha, piñata, guerrilla, mesa
Ja, nein, Blitzkrieg, danke, sprechen sie Deutsch, guten morgen, auf Wiedersehen, angst
Da, nyet, troika, glasnost, perestroika, tsar, soviet, sputnik, vodka, tundra
Smörgåsbord, fjörd, tack, Viking, ski, lingon, orienteering, ombudsman, moped
Judo, karate, karaoke, sumo, sushi, tofu, miso, manga, sake, kimono, samurai, futon, tsunami
Si, no, italiano, spaghetti, opera, pasta, forte, piano, ciao, arrivederci, buon giorno, vino
I bet you know over 90% of these words and can identify each of the groups.
Interestingly, Apple's TextEdit only flagged five words as not in its dictionary; these were burrito, chili, serape, nyet, and fjörd. TextEdit was happy when I spelled fjörd as fjord. In fact, TextEdit insisted on changing it as I typed. Microsoft's Word is a bit fussier; it didn't recognize any of the words that contained diacritical marks, like in garçon, señor, and smörgåsbord.
See, you're also smarter than a computer. You could recognize all the words.
Next time somebody says they have never been good at whatever, reply that they just haven't spent enough time and interest learning that whatever.
Ciao, amici miei!
Consider the following:
Oui, non, savoir faire, coup d'état, menu, restaurant, merci beaucoup, la plume de ma tante, père, mère, soirée, bon jour, monsieur, madame, mademoiselle, garçon, parlez vous français
Si, gracias, señor, señora, señorita, taco, burrito, chili, sombrero, serape, fiesta, siesta, madre, padre, muchacho, muchacha, piñata, guerrilla, mesa
Ja, nein, Blitzkrieg, danke, sprechen sie Deutsch, guten morgen, auf Wiedersehen, angst
Da, nyet, troika, glasnost, perestroika, tsar, soviet, sputnik, vodka, tundra
Smörgåsbord, fjörd, tack, Viking, ski, lingon, orienteering, ombudsman, moped
Judo, karate, karaoke, sumo, sushi, tofu, miso, manga, sake, kimono, samurai, futon, tsunami
Si, no, italiano, spaghetti, opera, pasta, forte, piano, ciao, arrivederci, buon giorno, vino
I bet you know over 90% of these words and can identify each of the groups.
Interestingly, Apple's TextEdit only flagged five words as not in its dictionary; these were burrito, chili, serape, nyet, and fjörd. TextEdit was happy when I spelled fjörd as fjord. In fact, TextEdit insisted on changing it as I typed. Microsoft's Word is a bit fussier; it didn't recognize any of the words that contained diacritical marks, like in garçon, señor, and smörgåsbord.
See, you're also smarter than a computer. You could recognize all the words.
Next time somebody says they have never been good at whatever, reply that they just haven't spent enough time and interest learning that whatever.
Ciao, amici miei!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Plural humor
I've long mused that the only languages that I know that add an 's' to indicate a plural noun are English, French, and Spanish. Other languages that I've encountered use other final sounds or inflection. Inflection is the changing of a vowel sound, like one alumnus or many alumni.
English however uses inflection also. Is this a holdover from its Germanic origin?
For example, we have goose and geese, mouse and mice. Does this last mean that the plural of spouse is spice? When I mentioned this to my wife, I added I really think the plural of spouse is trouble.
English however uses inflection also. Is this a holdover from its Germanic origin?
For example, we have goose and geese, mouse and mice. Does this last mean that the plural of spouse is spice? When I mentioned this to my wife, I added I really think the plural of spouse is trouble.
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