THE POLYGLOTS

Mr. & Mrs. Polyglot

No, they weren’t like Visigoths or Huns they were my parents. No, it wasn’t some off the beaten path religious cult but a mainstay in my life.

If you are familiar with the English language a little bit, you may know what ‘Polyglot’ means, to have the ability to communicate in more than one language. And there lied the problem: Mom and Dad were communicating behind my back to one another right in front of me. They spoke Italian when we were young and still learning our way around, then when secrecy was required they would switch off from English to Italian, burying all plans I might envision if I knew what they were talking about.

This polyglot stuff was particularly troublesome during the Christmas season when I tried to be on my best behavior and not torture my sisters in front of Mom or Dad. I was always a good son as I waited for them to first leave the room before adjusting the peace and tranquility delle mie Sorelle.

Being good was a full-time job and sometimes I didn’t show up for work! Pushing the mom-o-meter for aggravation usually led to my mother swearing in Italian at an alarming rate, reaching for the wooden spoon and our trot around the dining room table as she chased me.

“Wait ‘til I get my hands on YOU!”

“I can! Take your time.”

The mom-o-meter rose steadily with my semi-sarcastic replies and desperation. As Mom tired chasing me around the table she would sit and I would sit opposite of her out of reach of her wooden spoon. As she gathered her breath for another assault I would ask her if she was ready, her mom-o-meter rose further still and on my cue, I said: “OK, let’s go!” It was important for her to keep her remarks in Italian so I would be unprepared for what awaited me if she caught up with me.

Christmas time was when the polyglot system is most effective. Mom and Dad could tell each other where the presents were hidden or what they were thinking of getting us for Christmas. Hearing them speak usually meant that maybe coal was in the mix as they looked at me.

I remember one day Mom said to me she had an appointment and might not make it back before we got home from school, handing the key to my older sister. Curious, I asked her what kind of appointment. She answered “Eyes” and I asked “Front or back?” This, of course, released a string of Italian words that left her smiling. She always knew she kept me off balance.