After writing the last two entries there’s a memory that makes me smile.

At any given time at a family gathering at my grandparent’s house, you could hear English, Spanish, French, German or Japanese. Japanese was in there because I was learning it in school but the others were regularly heard because they were attached to the other part of who we were as a family.

There is no Spanish blood in us but my grandfather loved Spain. He took his family there and to Mexico quite often which means the Spanish changed. When my mother was a child they spoke Spanish at home, not English or French. We have no Spanish ties, but there was such a love for the land and culture that it stuck with my orphaned grandfather.

French came with him to the United States in 1930 from what was then Zaire. My great-grandmother who died at 95 adds some German to the mix.

Interestingly enough, my father is of African-German decent. Lightening strikes twice. 🙂 When my paternal grandfather game here he shortened his last name and made it more American. That’s the only known name change to become Americanized.

Language is beautiful, so is exploring land and cultures beyond your porch.


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