The Hooverville Hexagon: Looking at Life from a Different Angle

 

 

Butterfly of the Day

by SashaQ

It's called a Holly Blue Butterfly.

 

Still Life with Plants

by Paigetheoracle

He looks down; sometimes the view is startling.

 

One Person's Flower is Another's Weed

by DG

Willem says that in South Africa, these zinnias are weeds. Here, they have an honoured place in the garden.

 

Nobody Here But Us Chickens (Video)

by DG

There was some conferring going on. Apparently the chickens were preparing a noise complaint because of the tractor.

 

 

Reminiscence

by DG

 

Something educational the newsclowns* were nattering about yesterday made me think of the 'old days' about 40 years ago, when I was teaching English to Greek schoolchildren. We all had a lot of fun but I have to admit the five-year-olds were a bit of a challenge.

 

Don't get me wrong. Some of my favourite pupils have been kindergartners. I've taught all ages, from 5-75, sometimes on the same day. But at the time, the five-year-old Greek speakers of Thraki presented a unique challenge that I hadn't been warned about**.

 

The kiddos were supposed to learn how to answer basic questions in English like 'How are you?' and 'What's your name?'

 

The second question seemed to stump them, for some reason.

 

I said it slowly and clearly. 'What is your name?'

Silence. An innocent stare.

 

'Πώς είναι το όνομά σου?'

 

'I'm thinking!'

 

I asked around and got an explanation – as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 'You know how the kids are named after their grandparents?'

'Yes.'

'And that every kid has two grandparents of the same sex?'

'Er, yes.'

'And how most couples only have two kids?'

'Er, yes, but…'

'There are arguments that can go on for years.'

 

It turns out that you couldn't christen the child until the parents decided on a name. And since it was 'bad luck to call a child by their name before the christening' it was entirely reasonable that if you asked a five-year-old what their name was, especially in a foreign language, they had to think about it.

It also meant that Greek Orthodox priests frequently had to wrestle with angry toddlers. I'm sorry to report I never got to see one of those: the friends whose ceremony we attended had their baby baptised at only a few months, so there was no wrangling involved.

 

I don't know how much the kids learned that year. But I sure learned a lot from them, and I'm grateful.

 

*newsclowns: See Philip K Dick-tionary: 'In PKD's world, the news is read by clowns in red wigs and white makeup. One actually runs for president of the US. We won't belabour the point about the connection between science fiction and prophecy.'

 

**The other kids, the Pomaki kids whose families had lived in those mountains for centuries, didn't have the same problems. For one thing, they already spoke 2-3 languages before they got around to English. For another, they were Muslim and got their names earlier.

 

TTYL, Dmitri Gheorgheni, Editor