Even though Benjamin, my grandson-the-car-thief, lives in Switzerland, he and I communicate on Skype.
Again, wheels.
He has his toys, I have my toys, and they converse. Benjamin still tries to reach through the computer screen, but give him time. He'll figure it out someday. Then, maybe, just maybe he will talk with me without me using a stuffed animal or a car conversing with his own frog or truck.
He wondered today why the wheels did not turn on my new Disney Pixar car. He loves the wheels most of all. I could not give him a clear answer, which amused his father.
Visiting Museums can
go two directions: horribly dull or wonderful and stimulating. I have been to both, so this is an area in
which I feel qualified.
In Bern, Switzerland,
there are many fine museums, including one based on Albert Einstein and his
time in Bern. The one we chose that day,
since a two-year old was with us, was the Communication Museum.
This photo of Museum fur Kommunikation is courtesy of TripAdvisor
What made it
wonderful was that Benjamin walked along with me, sometimes holding my hand,
but always staying with me. The wheels
on the stagecoach were a big hit. And there were so many displays for little guys like him to touch and manipulate.
This photo of Museum fur Kommunikation is courtesy of TripAdvisor
Then we came to a
room which posted that the film presentation was out of order.
Oh, well. This
will give the little guy some room to walk around…so I released his hand in the room designed to
hold about 50 people. He was so happy in
the dim light.
The light got dimmer,
and dimmer until it was total black. Oh, God!
Help me!
This was taken a few months ago, but the laughter is still the same.
That is when I heard
the giggles, squeals, and happy shrieks.
Something brushed by me, giggling.
Then the dim light came on, and I saw the little guy way in front, and
he froze. Once the light went out, he took off again, gleefully running in the
pitch dark.
It felt like I was in
shallow ocean water with a very big fish/shark brushing by me.
Mommy came looking
for us just when the light came on, and Benjamin was close at hand. “Let’s go, buddy.” He took her hand, leaving me in the dim light
as it turned black.
Di’a Dhuit. Pronounced “Desh do-it” (as best I can remember), this is Irish Gaelic/Gaeilge for hello. We lived in Ireland for several years, with our children in Irish schools. Our oldest daughter, Erin, was ten years old when school began. That exempted her from having to gain some fluency in Gaelic. Our younger children, John (6 yrs.) and Mary (4 yrs.), started into school with the expectation that they would be learning Gaelic.
Every school day, part of the classes would be in English. For the rest of the day, Gaelic was spoken and taught. John and Mary’s homework included Gaelic vocabulary and reading, along with homework in English. As for Erin, she had to learn certain phrases having to do with being excused to go to the bathroom, get a drink. She never learned them to satisfaction, so she told me she just “held it” until recess.
Gaelic is an amazing and difficult language.
It is beautiful to hear, and the poetry it has produced (andfortunately translated into English) is full of depth, revealing the courage and spirit of its people. All students who are University-bound must pass Irish Language proficiency tests during their university years. Sections of southwestern and western Ireland, as well as the out-lying islands, are considered native Irish language areas. Parents send their children to three-week summer camps in those areas for immersion. Some parents send their students to Irish/Gaelic-only schools, scoil, paying for this connection to their history through its language.
If I haven’t lost any readers by this point, I am telling you about this complex language, because language defines who we are as a people. All over the world, the many languages and dialects spoken are reflections of the people and their history. As the native-speaker generations age and pass away, often the language goes with them. We see it here in America in the Native American populations, where the elders take the original rich language of their history with them. Some of the following generations are left with only phrases and basic words.
Language is the basis of our communications, written and oral. Having a passion for writing leads me to having a passion for language.
Go raibh mai’the agat . (‘Thank you’ as best I can remember in Gaelic.)
