“What? What did you just say?”
Grandma's face froze, like I’d pranked her with a water-squirting flower.
“Someday, you’ll live in Amurca,
and they don’t take your sheet there.
That’s why you hafta learn pronounciation.”
Frustration had set in on her deep red cheeks, like hoops set on fire.
“Umbrella begins with the letter u,
but that don’t mean a thing.
I’m going to teach you a trick.”
Two hours of juggling new sounds, time to add another pin.
“I want you to take your hand,
make a little fist, and punch yourself
in the stomatch. Go on.”
I don’t question her wisdom anymore; I carried on with the performance.
“Say uh! That’s how you say umbrella.
Uh, uh, uhmbrella. Like a man,
hombre, hombre, hombrella.”
Why is English such a beech? Painfully deceptive--a fun house mirror.
