on language

We sat in a warm sunny room off to the side of the classroom.

“what’s that?”, the nice lady asked.  I had no idea.  “Shirt?”, I’d asked.  “Blouse!” yelled my Mexican friend.

At age 5, it became obvious that I did not speak or understand English.  It was confusing, frightening, and humiliating.  I’d just come back from Macau, was thrust into a private school, and was expected to learn it immediately.  Sink or swim.

I sank.

Luckily someone at school noticed and had put myself and another classmate into a remedial speech class.  It didn’t change the fact that I was horribly horribly shy.

At 6, the girl next door, also my occasional babysitter, taught me how to read using comic books.  I’ll never forget that moment.  It was such a glorious feeling of liberation.  I proceeded to read everything in sight.  One of my favorites was William Safire’s New York Times Sunday column “On Language”.

Over the years and throughout all of my travels, that is one of the few things that have been constant.  On Sundays, I could always count on learning more about the American English language.  It was a small comfort of home.

When William Safire passed away last year, I was deeply saddened.  Although I never had the opportunity to meet him, this was one person that had most greatly influenced my life and my use of language from childhood, into young adulthood, and even now, into my 30s.

I don’t get the Times delivered anymore, but on Sundays, I still fire up the web browser to read On Language.  I can’t help but feel just a twinge of sadness over the loss of someone so crucial in my life and my expressions.

Here’s a link to Ben Zimmer talking about William Safire.  Well worth the read:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/11/magazine/11FOB-onlanguage-t.html?_r=1