That's Not My Poop

The other night I was exercising in my husband's office (the home of my beloved elliptical trainer) while my son Patrick was bouncing endlessly below me on a mattress left over from our recent family visits. A box of my husband's Physics papers falls from the mattress to the floor. Oooops! My son looks at it and beelines it for the office door (figuring I'm in my blissful state of elliptical trainer heaven and won't notice).

"Uh, Patrick," I say through exhausted puffs. "Can you please pick up that box of papers and put it back on the mattress."

As a side note, it really makes no sense to put the box back on the mattress where it will simply sit for another period of days or weeks until the next child knocks it over - but it is my husband's office and, well, it is the principle of the thing, right!?

Patrick takes a long look at me. He grimaces. He lets out an audible sigh of disapproval and states in no uncertain tones (and in English no less): "Papa should put that box back, it's full of HIS CRAP."

CRAP?!?! Where the heck did that word come from, I ask myself!

So I give Patrick an eyebrow-raised look and say, "Did you know that crap actually means poop?"
"WHAT!?" he yells out. "Ewwww. It does not mean that!"
"Oh yes it does, it certainly does," I give a satisfied smile.
Then he takes off down the hall yelling, "Yeuck, yeuck."

I retell my husband the story and he lets out a hearty chuckle. We discuss the situation and agree that Patrick most certainly learned the word in daycare. He learns all of his English in daycare we agree. Then my husband puts the box back on the mattress.

Yesterday, while in a meeting at work with my QA group, I retell the story of what Patrick said. I include the part about how I told Patrick that crap means poop and what his reaction was. We all laugh - ah children, they are so darn funny!

I also explain that I have no idea where he learned the word crap! "It is an English word and he said it in an English sentence so he must have picked it up at daycare." We all nod and agree that daycare is to blame for our children's rampant profanity absorption (albeit, crap isn't really a profane word but what the heck, nice to have someone to blame).

Half way through the meeting we are talking about our office's internal wiki where we post all of our activities. We discuss how at times we get a little overboard with our pages. We post so much information that the pages become cumbersome and useless. I find myself saying, "Yes, we just don't realize it and start putting all kinds of crap on our pages."

Knowing smiles start to spread across the faces of my coworkers. Oh my gosh, I said it! I said crap, it is ME who is teaching my son to say such words!! As this realization starts to hit me and I start to laugh, one of my witty coworkers says: "So, I guess what you are saying is that we should be careful not to put so much poop onto our wiki pages?"

Oh poop, they got me! :-)

Family All Around

The holidays haven't always been a joyful time for my husband and myself. The ocean dividing family and friends in Germany and us in Seattle has been palpable at times - thick and all-consuming. And just because my family lives in California doesn't mean we see many of them more than once every few years!

But over the years we have found ways to make this divide less heart-breaking and more heart-warming. Telephone calls, little packages sent back and forth, Skype and, of course, visits have all made our living apart a little less silent and lonely.

The hardest time of the year for my husband has been Christmas. Although we get into the spirit as soon as we can after Thanksgiving, it just doesn't fill the memories which my husband has of Christmas back home. Drinking Gluehwein, munching on freshly roasted nuts and the chatter of other holiday wanderers all warm the spirit during the holidays in Germany. The smells, sounds, sights and overall spirit during Christmas is simply indescribable. They have an uncanny way to make you forget that it is freezing cold outside and that your toes are about to fall off.

Here in Seattle things just aren't uniform in the way that they are in Germany. In part this is a good thing: due to the mixture of cultures and traditions and religions, everyone has their own idea of what warms the heart during the winter holidays. But in other ways it means there is no central location where the trappings of Christmas are displayed in all of their glory as is the case in Germany.

Personally I am not very religious (spiritual, YES, but organized religion and I are still having deep discussions). So it isn't that I want religious symbols plastered around town. But sometimes I would like to have a kind of uniformity of sorts that goes beyond the secular-ness of Santa in his red and white suit and the hammering of holiday songs about snow from the big department stores reminding you that there are only a few days left before gift-giving time (and that they have 70% off everything)!

There is something missing in a country which claims to appreciate and cater to all. I do believe that the United States as a whole really does want to do good by all of us and I DO appreciate that fact that there are so many different holiday traditions celebrated right in my neighborhood. However, what I can't stand is that without the lack of unity of celebration, big business has taken over the holiday season as its own, demanding that consumption be the unifying God of this holiday season. "We can't sing about Jesus Christ so how about 'Santa Claus is Coming To Town' during your holiday shopping spree? And did we mention that we have 50% off everything?"

I guess what each of us does in the United States to avoid the commercialism of the holidays is to create our own little cocoons of spiritual replenishment; to surround ourselves with family and friends and warm conversation; to find others in our towns and cities and join with them to celebrate as it feels most comfortable. And to let others celebrate next door and down the street and across town as it feels most comfortable to them. Sure, things may not be created for us in a uniform way to just step into. But in the end it is worth it as long as we don't let commercialism fill the lack of one uniform tradition.

For us, Christmas this year was especially warm and lively. My mother-in-law flew over at the beginning of December and spent the holidays with us (see photo above of her and I in the kitchen after Christmas dinner)!

I think she had a fine time spending the holidays with us and I know that we won't quickly forget the smells of Vanilla Kipfel, Mandel Hoernchen, Huehner Frikasee, Kohl-Rouladen and much more which she made for us. I think my husband simply died and went to heaven each time he bit into one of her traditionally prepared German delicacies. And I'm sure he was delighted to have an expert with him in the kitchen to help prepare Rouladen for our Christmas dinner (which he does each year... followed by Mousse au Chocolat).

Having so many family members together during the holidays was extremely special. My mother and brother arrived a week before Christmas and our house warmed up even more. What could have been absolute chaos (and was at times) ended up being a lively, heart-warming, laughter-filled few weeks. We also invited our neighbor across the street to our Christmas dinner as his family was in India and he was alone that night.

As always, we combined our German and American Christmas traditions: dinner on the evening of the 24th and then unwrapping presents from family and friends after dinner. Then on the morning of the 25th, opening presents which der Weihnachtsmann/Santa put into our stockings during the night. On the one hand, it is a crazy mess of gifts and wrapping paper but on the other hand, our children won't always be this young and filled with the magic of the season.

I'm not sure that we will ever have a Christmas like the one we just had. But rather than regretting that it is over, I cherish the memory of it. I am so delighted that my husband and I can truly bridge the expanse of space and time of our two countries, families and histories. After it was all over, as we were driving back from the airport after dropping off my mother-in-law for her flight back to Germany, my husband and I looked at one another and agreed that it is the fact that we are from different countries and cultures and traditions which makes our lives so much richer and fabulous. Yes, it is all very bitter-sweet at times but we wouldn't change a thing.

L'amour à la (AOL) française

As many of you know, the "technology company" which I often referred to as my place of employment was none other than the glorious America Online (AOL). Our group was purchased by another technology company in August, so I no longer work for AOL. I have spent close to 10 years working for AOL, helping to create and test the many language databases which are developed for the T9 product (which many of you will find in your cell phones for text messaging!) . In fact, when I met with Tommi earlier in the year, he jokingly said that he wished we'd develop our T9 software to support bilingual entry for cell phones, so that he could message in both Finnish and English at the same time. I was delighted to inform him that we DO have a bilingual program in place. It is just a matter of the OEMs putting it on their phones. :-)

After a recent round of layoffs (2,000 people worldwide), the AOL France team decided to go out with style (we would expect no less from the French!). Check out this fabulous video from the AOL France team (lip-synched to French Eurovision 2007 song from the band Les Fatal Picards). And yes, if you think you are hearing a bunch of code-switching between French and English, you are right! This is a delightful example of fun, fun, fun code-switching! I wish we'd have thought to have done something as wild and crazy when AOL sold off our group to another company!

The password for the video is: aollover .

L'amour a la francaise from pyc on Vimeo.

The Compassionate Life

I was on vacation from the middle of August until the middle of September - ahhhh, vacation. The space and time to think again. To actually read a book and to breathe deep, deep breaths, those breaths which actually fill the bottoms of my lungs. The time to taste the subtle richness of a coffee, the smoothness of melt-in-your-mouth ice cream, laughter with family and friends, the scent of new landscapes, the sounds and sensations of different locations. Since we always take our vacation in big chunks of time (this was a "short" three-week vacation) we have the luxury of slowly getting used to this state of mind over the course of weeks.

It is almost always on vacation that I feel myself transforming back into what I like to call "myself." It is a slowing down, an embracing of the realities of where I happen to be standing at that moment and the ability to listen and understand it.

While on vacation I had decided to read two books which I had purchased in Seattle: "The Well-Adjusted Child-The Social Benefits of Homeschooling" by Rachel Gathercole and "Real Food-What to Eat and Why" by Nina Planck. I was NOT disappointed as I slowly made my way through each book. Both point toward something I had been longing for but was unable to grasp: getting back to basics. One book reminded me of the value of family and the bonds that form there each and every moment we are together. The other reminded me of the importance of food and the need to get back to the basic elements of it which means getting as far away from processed foods as possible. In my hectic life, I often forget the importance of home-cooked foods (be it cookies or dinner or a snack of carrots and hummus). I don't agree with everything that Nina writes in her book (I prefer to avoid meat more often than not) but all in all it was a good reminder to get back to foods that are real (we have even started purchasing raw milk from a local farmer and are drinking it as-is (no heating it first) and making some fabulous yogurt and kefir. I look forward to making some cheese!).

Then, a week into our vacation, while browsing through Bookshop Santa Cruz (yes, you guessed it, this book store is located in the heart of fabulous Santa Cruz, California - our vacation was visiting my family members who are spread out between northern and southern California) I spotted a book that Alice had reviewed for Multilingual Living Magazine titled, "Eat, Pray, Love-One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia" by Elizabeth Gilbert. On a whim I purchased it. In fact, my husband purchased it for me.

Husband: "You want to get that book?"
Me: "Well, I donno. Alice said it was good and here it is as a favorite pick by one of the book store's employees. It must be a good book."
Husband: "I think you should get it."
Me: "Yea, well, it is pretty expensive. I can just borrow it from the library when we get back."
Husband: "We're getting it for you." He takes it off the shelf and as he turned to go to the cash register, I beamed with an excited smile.

That night I started reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and my life started changing.

There is a part in the book where she spends time at an ashram in India. By the time I finished that part of the book, I was trembling. It is hard to explain why it impacted me as it did. Perhaps it was because by the time I got to that part of the book we were visiting my mother and brother in my childhood home (one which is filled with ambivalent memories thanks to the endless arguments of my parents as I was growing up) which always leaves me feeling a little exposed and raw.

Or perhaps because it resonated with the years I spent practicing Zen Buddhism, which included visits to Green Gulch and Tassajara Zen Centers. For anyone who has spent time at these two zen centers, they are the real deal: up before sunrise to meditate for hours, silent meals, working in the garden for much of the day, crashing onto your floor mat at the end of the day from sheer exhaustion. There ain't no way you can escape yourself at these places no matter how hard you try. I was 17 and 18 years old at the time and a wore a scarf on my head for over a year as a kind of "leave me the hell alone because I am trying to figure out who I am" gesture.

For whatever reason, there was a moment while reading the book that I suddenly experienced an overwhelming rush of compassion; compassion for myself, my family, for humanity as a whole - a level of compassion which I don't think I have experienced before. It was a total, complete and in some ways spiritual wash which came over me at that moment and I couldn't remember what it was like to NOT be completely compassionate in all ways, shapes and forms. It was a kind of embracing of the world and a love for everyone in it.

At that moment I felt it just taking over my every cell without any urging on my part. It reminded me of zen koans (which I read incessantly during my zen Buddhism phase of life): that kind of sudden realization which takes place in a different part of of our being than our mind - a whole body experience, if you will. Like the pure satisfaction we experience when musical notes resonate in perfect harmony. We know what we would like to hear (or what we don't like to hear) but it isn't until those notes resonate perfectly that we experience an absolute whole-body-and-mind fullness from the wash of the music.

I still have no idea what caused the perfect blend of words, thoughts, experiences, mistakes, hopes, dreams, tragedies in my life to cause this moment to happen but whatever it was, I was left feeling like I was viewing everything in life from a completely different vantage point than before. My struggles for different things and desires in life just melted away and I was left with a combination of humility, understanding, calmness, love, joy and gratitude.

I'm not sure how long this state of being will last. A few aggressive Seattle drivers, a nasty coworker, the hectic schedule of life could very easily knock me off my balance. But for now I am so honored to have this opportunity to experience this way of experiencing the world.

Let's put it this way: the other day when someone raced in front of me and cut me off in a big gas-guzzling SUV and then proceeded to flip me off (yes, even Seattle has those people), I found myself looking at that outstretched middle finger and feeling nothing but deep compassion for that person; compassion for what must be going on inside that person which would urge him to act that way. I actually understood exactly how caught up he must have been in his own world, where doing such things was his only way of making himself feel whole. Is that not something to feel compassionate about!?

There have been times recently when my husband expected me to react a certain way to something he or someone else said (based on how I usually react) and instead, when I didn't react the expected, pre-compassionate-me way, he gave me a big smile. Smiling back in return I said, "Remember, I told you! I have changed!"

Oh - and some fabulous music!

My favorite right now is Joe Purdy: www.joepurdy.com. You can listen to his songs on his website. My favorite albums of his are "Only 4 Seasons" (I love the song "Why You") and the other album "You Can Tell Georgia" (the song "Can't Get it Right Today" is great).

And another great band is Nickel Creek! My mother and brother introduced us to their music while we were visiting.

Monolingualism is a Curable Disease

Thank you Rubén Rumbaut for using this quote in an email correspondence: "Monolingualism is a curable disease."

When I first heard this quote a few years ago, I felt that the word disease was a little too strong. Disease sounds so deadly! Like an epidemic. But isn't that what monolingualism is in places like the United States? As we have also heard (and which Rumbaut reminded me): "America is a language graveyard."

Think about what that means! America is a place where languages go to die! They perish, bit by bit until they no longer exist. The sad part about that is that these languages are usurped by another language: English.

Being that America is such a land of immigration, this seems to strange to me. And, as Rumbaut has pointed out, immigration is what keeps languages alive and flourishing in this country. A generation or two later and languages will most likely have all but died out. Immigration across borders keeps the language influx thriving.

The saddest part about this whole thing is that America has so much potential. I LOVE America. I love the cowboy and cowgirl origins: the "can do" live style and powerful independence. The ability to feel that the stars can be reached if only we give enough heart to the effort. The hippy mentality of getting in touch with the earth and treating humanity with the respect it deserves. A multitude of elements blend and collide, mesh and bounce off one another. It is a beautiful sight to witness.

Just today, while shopping for clothes, I stood in the changing room and listened to two women discussing their clothing choices in German while in the stall next to them a woman spoke on her cell phone in Italian! And later I witness two Indian women contemplating their clothing in their native language. I passed an African woman pushing her child in a stroller, donning her native clothing and speaking to her child in her language. This is all in a matter of an hour and in the middle of a large Seattle downtown department store!

But this country seems to also attract those who wish to create an artificial consistency out of the flourishing cultural and linguistic mosaic that exists here. A kind of fear seems to pervade a certain corner of our citizenry and they lash out trying to create a circle of comfort around themselves by attacking others.

As Rumbaut has pointed out - our languages are in jeopardy. There is no threat to the English language and the American culture. If anything, our children will probably not even pass on our languages if they differ from the community language around us.

So, I say to the rest of the United States, let go of your worries and embrace our country as it is and enjoy the beauty of it all. We ARE multilingual. We ARE multicultural. That is simply the reality of our land. Within these borders are languages and cultures mixing and blending with unfathomable creativity and beauty. And in the end, we will all still be Americans. Never fear! We will still have the "can do" attitude, the hippy mentality, the intertwined depth of what it means to be an American. So before we destroy that which makes us human and whole and American, let's embrace it and savor it.

The Meaning of Bilingual

There is one thing I don't understand. Doesn't the term "bilingual" mean speaking two languages? "Bi" as in two or twice (which can be traced back through Latin and Ancient Greek roots) plus "lingua" meaning tongue, speech or language. You put the two together and you have someone who speaks two languages -- ANY two languages!

So, when did bilingual come to mean someone who doesn't speak the community language? When did our societies start to use the terms as a pejorative term? In the United States, it has often been used to mean "Spanish-speaker" (or whichever culture a person wishes to degrade). Which, in itself is completely contradictory... if someone lives in the United States and only speaks Spanish, then that person is monolingual, not bilingual.

Very strange how such terms come to mean something different over time.

Perhaps the word bilingual developed its convoluted meaning through its association with the word "education" as in "bilingual education"? Did people start to associate bilingual education to mean programs for kids who don't speak English and then slowly but surely the word bilingual came to mean people who don't speak English? Very ironic, really.

Very often someone will contact me at the Bilingual/Bicultural Family Network and ask why our website isn't in Spanish. The assumption is that the word Bilingual in our network's name means we support Spanish-speakers only. It took quite a few inquiries before I understood what the confusion was and then started realizing the associations that are made with the word bilingual.

I'm not saying that everyone associates the word bilingual with this incorrect definition. It is more a slow, eroding process whereby a word slowly changes its meaning purely through association -- through its association with finger pointing, scowled faces and accusations.

The same can be said for the term "multicultural" in the United States. For some reason it has come to mean "multiracial." A few months back a program came on TV discussing local schools and how they can meet the needs of their multicultural students. What the discussion was focused on was race. Not that we shouldn't be very much concerned with the role of race in our schools! But let's use terminology that really fits the description. Perhaps the word race was purposely avoided due to America's debilitating past with respect to race and humanity and was replaced with culture... something which is less precise, less clear, less assumed.

I always find it amazing that we can so easily start slipping into using words and associating meanings to words without even really knowing it, without being completely aware of what is happening. Bit by bit the words take on a new shape and we start using them in ways that mesh with the definitions that the rest of society has placed on them.

In the end words are around so that we can share meaning. Yes, who needs different languages to create linguistic confusion! Monolingual American English speakers, even when they are using simple words such as bilingual and multicultural, can cause great misunderstandings and confusions.