Chinese, Southern Style

My cousin Vonnie asked, "What does Lao Lao mean?" Now I am no expert, but I was told by a Chinese friend that it literally means "old, old." And since my grandmother was 71 when I was born, it seemed a fairly fitting description of her, although she managed to stay young enough that I enjoyed telling her my secrets as a teen. And she was everyone's favorite person, right up until she died at the ripe age of 96, sharp as ever. But what I could never figure out, is how Lao Lao could mean "old, old" when it is also supposed to mean "grandmother on your mother's side" (confirmed by another Chinese friend). My brother's son called my mother "Nai nai" (at least that's how I spell it) which means "grandmother on your father's side." So I guess I'll go with "very old grandmother on your mother's side." I'm quite sure my "old old" sister is loving this, since she is the matriarch of our family, and was the first to be a grandmother, although my brother has come in at a quick and close second.

In East Berlin, however, I would like to have a name that means "young, young." I was tooling through the grocery store one day with my godchild, thinking of how not so long ago it was Rebecca in the stroller, when my ex-favorite cashier said, "Oh, is that your grandchild?" "No!" I exclaimed, too shocked for a snappy comeback. "Well, it could be," she commented. So much for blond highlights. They fool no one.

Yes, Berliners are quite truthful. Sometimes I wish they weren't quite so truthful. Like the time I and a girlfriend were talking about bathing suits (East Germans are famous for their "free body culture" beaches--read: "suits? who needs one?"). We were at a pool, however, so my friend was wearing a bikini, in contrast to my rather modest attire, which was definitely in the minority. Me: "I just don't have a bikini figure." "No," she agreed, "You don't." I am still getting over that one. Pass the popcorn, please.

Back to Chinese. Our family has this very weird thing with Chinese. Since my mother grew up there, we grew up on fascinating stories of Bandits, Crossing the Yellow River, Rickshaws, Revivals, Japanese Smugglers, Uncle Archer's antics in boarding school, Mother's roommates in boarding school (it sounded fun!), Moon Gate, Joutze dinners and Szeezicks, the dog who went to church. I always felt cheated growing up in boring America, where the most exciting thing that happened was . . . um . . . um . . . well, give me a minute . . .

China was such a big part of Mother's life, understandably, that when we got a white German Shepherd named King, she dubbed him Wong, Chinese for King. We were probably the only family on the planet with a white German Shepherd named Wong. "Please let Wong out to do his business . . . Here Wong! Wong, bad dog!" I now have Chinese friends who are named Wong. I hope they will forgive me if they are reading this blog.

My fascination with the Chinese Language at about age 10 led to my learning to say John 3:16 in Chinese from my nearly deaf very southern "old old grandmother on my mother's side." My grandfather, called "granddad," although his Chinese was nearly flawless, painstakingly wrote it out for Lao Lao and me on a paper, which I still have somewhere. I never knew she had been unable to learn more than the most rudimentary language skills because of her accent and her deafness. We simply practiced it right along with the Psalms and "Precious Jewels" (a children's hymn) each summer morning until I could say it perfectly. Somehow my mother never got wind of this scheme. Years after Lao Lao's death, she and Uncle Archer and I got talking about my learning Chinese from Lao Lao. "Lao Lao?" "Chinese?" "Oh, yes," I insisted, and proceeded to recite John 3:16 in perfect Macon Georgia Chinese. "She lives!! She lives!" howled mother. I don't know when I had seen Uncle Archer laugh so hard. I was apparently a perfect mimic. Unfortunately history is repeating itself--our Timothy can beautifully imitate German with a strong American accent. . . Now where would he hear that?? I am deeply perplexed.

My Chinese friend Bing (last name not Wong) did try to reteach me John 3:16 with a correct Mandarin accent. She said I came a bit closer when I imitated her, but sadly, old habits die hard, and I am forever stuck with "Shang di ah shu ren" from Macon, Georgia.

So, Vonnie, aren't you glad you asked?