Can I tell you a silliness? If you’re still here after that elliptical or oblique or simply incomprehensible title, you’re probably going to indulge me a bit.
The title comes from an anecdote I told La Ragazzina a week or two before her Granddad and I left Rome to walk the Via Francigena. Granddaughter and I were entertaining each other in the backseat of the car; her Granddad in the front with her Papa who was driving us all back to Rome after a satisfying day visiting three different notable hilltop towns in Lazio. She has a screen for game-playing and video-watching, but she regularly loses interest in those and will dip in and out of a conversation with me.
We’ve been sharing this back seat on day trips out of Rome for years now. Along with the rest of the world, we missed visiting for almost two Covid years, so my time as her car companion is now even more precious. Before Covid, we used to play a goofy little game I think I invented when she was not quite three — when we entered a tunnel (and you know those Italian highway builders love a good tunnel), one of us would immediately pour the other an imaginary cup of tea, then pour one for herself. If there were time, imaginary biscotti would be offered, cookies and tea to be finished by the time we left the tunnel.
You can guess how tickled I was that she remembered this game when I visited again six months after having invented it, and it was a staple of our car time together until the pandemic. In fact, she surprised me by resurrecting the game our first trip back after the virus, Fall ’21, and we might have played it once or twice since then. Not this visit, though. I suspect I could still have coaxed her into another go, but she’s growing, changing interests. More likely, now, to share favourite YouTube video clips.
She still gets more than a bit goofy near the end of a long-ish day out, though. She never shows much fatigue except in becoming a touch, shall we say, frenetic. She gets giddy, hurls herself toward hilarity, revels in laughing until tears leak down her cheeks. . . and then she’ll repeat the punch line (often a single silly word) and start it all up again.
But I can’t predict when that’s going to happen, of course, and we were still having a reasonably calm conversation, when, recounting something that had happened at her school recently, she labeled it, the way we cool kids have come to do these social media days. As when, for an example, we’re speaking of (possibly fake) news one friend has told another about a third friend, and we might say “HashtagGossip.” Except that while I can’t remember what label she was applying to her account, I do remember that she used the term “Slashtag” rather than “Hashtag.”
Rather than correct her directly, I waited until a sentence or two had moved us further along, and then I used the phrase myself, but said “Hashtag” instead of “Slashtag.” She immediately challenged me on that, so I looked dubious and she decided to Google for the answer. Confronting her own proof that I was right, she was instantly embarrassed. “Nana, I’ve been saying “Slashtag” at school and everywhere. Now I feel so embarrassed. Everybody could have been making fun of me.”
Honestly, this kid could handle being made fun of — she’s pretty solid. But I had an example of my own to show her that everyone gets words wrong. In truth, I’m not sure this is a mistake I actually made, but it’s a potential error that I’d woken up wondering about a few nights previous. I told her that I’d been to a bookstore in Rome, looking for a book I needed for my Italian book club back home. I’d been, predictably, a bit nervous and shy about asking for it, but the ensuing conversation in Italian had been satisfying and I’d left the store with the book and a good memory.
Except that when I woke in the wee hours (they’re so treacherous, those hours), I was somehow sure that I had begun the conversation by saying “Posso aiutarmi?” (Can I help me?) instead of “Può aiutarmi?” (Can you help me?) or, even better “Potrebbe aiutarmi” (Could you help me?). In the daytime, after a decent night’s sleep, this isn’t a mistake I’d be likely to make. But “Posso” trips off my tongue much more readily than “Può,” and I’m not sure I’ve yet made a good habit of using “Potrebbe” regularly. So I couldn’t quite shake off the Finger-Pointing Language Critics of 3 a.m.
Since I couldn’t shake them off, I figured I could make them serve, and so I shared my doubts about what I said with Our Growing Italian. Well, she loved the story, and any question about it being hypothetical, oneiric, was immediately dismissed. She repeated the phrase “Posso aiutarmi?” in various tones, with a range of inflection, always followed by a silent beat that dissolved into laughter. She began inventing mini-dramas in which she would play someone (implicitly Me) who went into some made-up context or other describing to an Imaginary Someone (a shopkeeper, a park attendant, a nurse) something she needed, had lost, was missing. . . and ending with the misspoken words, “Posso aiutarmi?” Cue gales of laughter.
Inevitably, this chiselled the error emphatically into my memory bank, and I’ve caught myself repeating the words as if they were a kind of nonsense “Open Sesame” to a moment of shared hilarity. The two of us in that back seat, Lazio’s green landscapes rolling by . . . I texted her last week, “Posso aiutarmi?,” and she texted back a row of laughing faces — the tears springing from the emoji’s eyes not much of an exaggeration compared to hers.
In fact, though, goofy as the phrase was, during my enforced solo sitting, injured ankle elevated, that last week of our trip, I began to hear a message in it: Posso aiutarmi? . . . Can I help myself?
When we can’t change a situation — and I couldn’t heal my ankle overnight, couldn’t walk alongside my husband on the Via Francigena as we’d planned — we can perhaps best help ourselves by changing how we think about it. And now that I’ve spent a couple of posts telling you about the disappointment and anxiety I felt when an injured ankle and a UTI interfered with a carefully planned trip, I’m all set to tell you what I learned and enjoyed and observed during my last week in Italy this April . . . and also what I’m currently thinking about and planning for as I look beyond my 70th birthday next week.
Posso Aiutarmi? Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?
I might be distracted over the next few days, with a family gathering; a lodge; meals prepared by son, daughters, sons-in-law; forested waterfront; birthday cake; ample sunshine. . . . But I look forward to reading your comments as they land. Have you, for example, ever realized belatedly that you may have made an embarrassing error in a second language? Or do you recognize either of the three hilltop towns we drove to? Or . . . When’s the last time you laughed until you cried, and then tried to pump that punch line for another belly laugh? Or the last time you watched a child do the same? Remember how good a belly laugh feels? . . . Or, you know, comment on anything that strikes you in the post. . . or just wave a hello. And know that I appreciate you reading.
xo,
f
Aren’t grandchildren wonderful? If only they didn’t grow up quite so quickly!
Author
True! Although I’m enthralled with watching them move through and toward the teen years. . .
While I don’t share the backseat with my soon to be 10 grandaughter, I do have the joy of picking her up from school twice a week. Our discussions about how her day went, what she is reading or creating in art class do my heart good. Such a gift to be part of my grands’ lives!
Author
Oh, you’re so lucky to have that regular connection — a gift indeed!
Oh Frances, I loved this post! Your back seat car travel game is just the sort of goofy game I play with my granddaughter (and she too gets more than a bit goofy towards the end of a long day!)
I loved your ‘teachable moment’…her slashtag story, the way you responded, the way you used your inner 3am critic to work for you, your text exchange, and the way you ultimately used this question to help yourself.
Posso Aiutarmi? Yes indeed!
Happy birthday celebrations😊
Author
Thanks so much, Genevieve — I really enjoyed writing this one!
And thanks for the birthday wishes as well!
“Posso aiutarmi?” is the question everyone should ask oneself (although it was not your intention in the post, it is a deep and profound truth)- how can I help myself? Because,we have to be good to ourself to be able to help anyone else
It will be one of you phrases I will remember,as well as “I’m so excited ” 🙂
Are you serious? I’ve had a zillion silly things and typos in English I’ve written here,to be remembered for ever (not fishing for compliments) by all of you and the web. I’m sure that a lot of your readers think how illiterate this person (me) is and how illiterate doctors are (because of me) . And a half of those who know that I’m a Croat who lives in Croatia and that I’ve learned English only in school ,think “she should know better with all those books she claimed she have read” :). Some of my constructions made me blush (and if I remembered all of them,I would never buy blush in my life)
I’ve learned German from when I was 8 years old. My teacher was (then) a student who is now our best translator from German. I was very intimated by her father who always tended to ask me something in German and I’ve thought that everything I’ve said had to be perfect. When I was in Germany for 3-4 weeks (as 17 years old girl) in my pen pal’s German family,I’ve realized that I could keep quiet all the time or speak and make mistakes. I think you all realize what decision I’ve made-for all languages and years to come:)!
I’ve learned French(in school as well as English and Latin) and Italian,many,many years later. I’ve spoken with a lot of people about a lot of themes during my stellar years but I’ve forgotten very,very,very much. Almost everything! I’ve read (and still am reading) a book or two per year in German-but nevertheless,now I could only order coffee or a meal in Vienna,or buy shoes :),not having a conversation about Goethe or Mozart. But if I were somewhere more than 2-3 weeks I would remember (I hope)! So,one speaks and make mistakes and more mistakes….and makes friends in the process!
F. is so charming and clever-this is such an endearing story! We all need more of fun in our life!
Dottoressa
Hello Dottoressa, I hope you don’t mind me butting in. I just wanted to let you know how much I admire your gift of languages! X
Genevieve,thank you very much your kind comment! I love to speak,but one forgets when not using it!
D.
I too admire your ability to communicate so well in second, third and more languages. Mistakes are over-rated. If I’m tired enough I can make mistakes in my first language, particularly in relation to other people’s names, about which I can be very forgetful.
Aw,thank you very much Maria!
“Mistakes are over-rated” -I’ll remember that (and utterly agree)! And,yes,I make mistakes in all languages,including my native one,too 🙂
D.
Author
Hahah! My poor daughter — that was quite a mistake to make 😉 You have a good memory!
I admire so much your ability in so many languages — and your willingness to use them even at the risk of making mistakes. I so agree with you that if we can’t do that, we silence ourselves and we lose out.
When we travelled to far away places I always made an effort to learn a little of the local language , nothing complicated , directions were important of course & prices & menus . But apart from that I wanted to exchange pleasantries with people I met . I’m absolutely certain I made a fool of myself many times . I could tell by the baffled expressions & suppressed amusement but I don’t remember any derision or impatience . People just seemed pleased to help a couple of helpless foreigners. I remember once asking directions to our hotel from a team of refuse men in the back streets of Cadiz & they insisted on taking us there . So we arrived by refuse wagon – fortunately it was a very modest hotel . It was all part of the fun really . It would have been lovely to have been more proficient though & I’m full of admiration for those who are – like you & Dottoressa
Hope you enjoy your family get together.
Author
This is so important, Wendy, making that effort to learn at least enough of the local language to show that we want to make a connection, to “exchange pleasantries,” as you say. I haven’t travelled to nearly as many places as you have, and not sure what I’d be able to manage. But I think it’s important to try — The willingness to be the “helpless foreigners” is a vulnerable humility that respects the value of a culture, and as in your example, that humility is so often repaid by kindness and instances of authentic connection.
Thank you!
What a wonderful story. You were smart to share your story with your granddaughter to show her that we all make word mistakes. I have an old tee shirt from Malaprops bookstore in North Carolina. The name delighted me. I sometimes call myself Mrs. Malaprop. While none come to mind at the moment, I’ve made lots of word errors.
Have fun with your family.
Author
Ha! I’d wear that tee shirt with pride! 😉
Wonderful story! I love hearing about your adventures in Italy with your charming granddaughter.
I can identify with 3 a.m. language critics putting in an appearance. It doesn’t even have to be a particularly embarrassing mistake; I am enough of a perfectionist that I give myself a hard time about little things I could have said better and/or nit-picky grammar mistakes. (I speak French regularly in my work life.) It has been a lifelong lesson — still in progress — for me to learn to take chances even if I’m not sure I’m expressing myself perfectly. I remember a job interview I had in Montreal as a newly-minted university graduate, and the person who interviewed me (in English) asked if I could speak French. I responded “un petit peu” (even though French had been one of my university majors!) and she switched the interview to French. A few minutes in, she stopped and had a little talk with me about what a disservice I was doing to myself by underselling my language skills.
I’ve become more confident in the intervening years, but that does not entirely hush the 3 a.m. critics!
Author
Oh wow! My French isn’t at your level I can absolutely relate to the underselling of skills.
Although I wish I’d undersold my Italian even more to the ER doctor who told me that my Italian was better than his English so he would continue in Italian — ignoring the reality that my Italian medical lexicon was limited to the external parts of the body!
A lovely memory of your recent trip. Made up games are often the best ones. I remember playing long games of making tea with my nephew when he was young (now in his forties). I can’t recall how we made the games last as long as we did. Perhaps the repetition was soothing for us both. My husband can make me helpless with laughter, which is nice after 34 years of marriage. I laugh quite a bit while watching Succession. That family is so awful at times and laughter is a better choice than tears.
Author
What is it about those imaginary tea parties? I bet your nephew still remembers them!
And you’re so right — a husband who can still make you laugh like that after 34 years of marriage is a gem! There’s nothing quite like sharing that kind of laughter!
Popping my head up after today’s marathon cram session (maratona is Portuguese for marathon, btw) as I take my A2 exam tomorrow evening. I expect I’ll have a “posso me ajuda?” (Portuguese for “Posso aiutarmi?”) moment or two in my exam – hopefully no more than that – and I will think of you and your lovely granddaughter. Reports from today’s exam takers are that it was quite difficult, but that if we don’t pass there’s another opportunity to take it in June, which takes a little weight off my shoulders.
I’m lucky enough to be married to a man who can send me into fits of giggles and laughs much like your granddaughter’s, so I’m quite familiar with the phenomenon. I truly believe laughter is that vital thing that keeps us young in mind and spirit even as body parts might disagree.
Wishing you the very happiest of birthday celebrations! Looking forward to what the future reveals and what further adventures you’ll be sharing with us. XOXO
Author
Oh, I hope the exam went well! And thanks for that Portuguese equivalent — they’re close on this, aren’t they?!
Thanks for the birthday wishes — and I’m completely with you on the value of laughter and the good fortune of having a partner with whom one can indulge like a child!
Loved this! It brought back memories of my own kids cracking up whenever I gave our Quebec farm address to sign them up for one activity or another. Apparently, to their francophone ears, my pronunciation of “rue” was indistinguishable from “roue”. The idea of living in/on a wheel never failed to amuse.
As for making granddaughters weep with laughter, I happily retell the “stories” on request where I am the butt of the joke just to set the giggles rolling.
Author
Kids and grandkids! They do love a chance to laugh at the adults, don’t they?! A carnavalesque subversion…
You’re an amazing grandmother to ease her concerns–and to demonstrate learning new languages! I wonder if she knows that ‘hashtag’ comes from the # symbol on the keyboard. In the USA you are asked to use the ‘hash’ key when inputting PIN numbers etc. For example 4444#.
Author
Thank you! I didn’t know the etymology of the word “hashtag.” We Canadians call that the “pound” sign. As in, “Please enter your 4-digit PIN followed by the pound sign.”
Called the hash key in the UK, strangely.
Author
Hmmm. . .
I just turned off the news on TV and reread your post about the interactions with your granddaughter, a charming antidote to the ugliness which seems to surround us here these days. Also missing my granddaughter. She has been away at school and did not get home for Easter break. Eager for next week when she returns.
Author
I’m glad you enjoyed the post…and glad you get to see your g’daughter soon! We need all the happy antidotes we can get!!
What a sweet story about the car ride. And such a typically gentle loving way that you instructed and entertained la Ragazzina.
I have a language faux pas story, from the year I sailed and spent several months in and out of La Paz— here is an excerpt from the blog I kept them:
As the sun was setting, I stopped for a marguerita at Hotel Perla, on the waterfront. I was the only customer and the waiter was elaborate with me, to the great enjoyment of his idle colleagues. Will that be a marguerita on the rocks he asked me in Spanish. No, on the veranda I answered.
The waiters all looked at me, surprised and amused-/ I think they thought I was knowingly punning. 😉
Author
That’s a great anecdote — If only all our language faux pas were taken as deliberate puns! 😉
Lovely story, and how special to have all those memories with your granddaughter. It’s a bit early for grandchildren for us – and who knows if there will ever be any. I always feel when I read stories of other people’s grandchildren that I shouldn’t project forward, because it may never be the case.
Plenty of mistakes in French, the subject of my 2 degrees. And I go on making them! I wish they had said to us when we graduated from our first degree that we had only just started to learn the language and that we shouldn’t be big-headed about our shiny new qualifications. I’ve learned so much since I started French classes again in retirement that I’m amazed at my 22 year old self thinking she could speak fluent French, despite a distinction in spoken French! Perhaps this is a very Scottish self-deprecating attitude. I still remember the mistakes I made in my first week as an English language assistante in a French lycée – they are somehow branded in my mind. At least I realised they were mistakes right away, which I suppose is something!
Author
In the small community you live in now (if I’m remembering correctly), I wouldn’t be surprised if you find some “grandchildren” — at least, I hope that all of our communities might offer more opportunities for young children and elders to enrich each other’s lives (the whole concept of “child-free” buildings or housing complexes for seniors leaves me cold!).
A (PhD-candidate in linguistics) French tutor Paul and I once enjoyed conversational sessions with explained convincingly to me that we become French speakers (or English, or Italian, or Cantonese, etc.) as soon as we begin putting words together into sentences in a deliberate act of communication . . . and then even in our native language none of us ever have mastery of the entire lexicon. I quite liked his outlook because my own French and Italian is always going to be flawed although I can now express myself on most topics to a patient interlocutor ;-)Learning a language is a beautifully ongoing process (although I did use to wish that the students in my university composition classes could speed up their grasp of grammar!).
And yes, I think you’re probably very self-deprecating — and much harder on yourself than you were on the students you were helping learn English!