Wednesday, December 10, 2014

True Story: Missing the Skiing Trips

Sorry for the lack of blogging yesterday. It was a very busy day full of subscription renewals at work, then Irish class, and then when I got home, instead of blogging on a computer with a dysfunctional A key, I just wanted to work out. Usually I dance around to the hip hop music on my iPod, but last night I actually ran in circles around the loft. It felt really good. Too bad I hate running anywhere else...

Not that I have that much to blog about, but I can share a seasonal childhood memory. (“Seasonal” in the sense of winter, so sorry if you were hoping for some romantic story about Christmas of yore.) Most of the kids at my elementary school were very well off, because their dads were doctors, so our school had an annual ski trip. My family was poor, so I couldn’t afford to go on this trip, and so I had to go to school those days with the few other poor kids. Most of them were Cambodian immigrants, so I started hanging out with them, especially a girl named Sokvouen. (Which is pronounced “So-QUEN.”) I would go over to her house, and her older sisters would dress me in traditional Cambodian clothes, which we all got a kick out of: this really blonde girl in Southeast Asian clothes. I actually learned a few words of Cambodian, especially the dirty ones, of which I only remember one. The other thing I remember is how to count to twenty in Cambodian. Sokvouen’s family moved to California (it was probably too cold in Minnesota for people who had just come from near the equator), and we sent each other a couple of letters but eventually fell out of touch. Anyway, there is no real point to this story except to say that if my family had had the wherewithal to send me skiing, I wouldn’t have been able to walk down the street and recognize the Cambodian F-word written in the snow, like I did one winter day. And so I have always been a pretty good linguist and a lousy athlete.

Famous Hat

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