True Story!

I have many good friends over here in Japan and many have blogs that I read religiously with my morning coffee. It helps me to know what is going on in the outside world when I am stuck inside with the little ones. This was a great entry and after asking permission I can publish this entry so that you can see what happened to my friend Kathy one day at the hospital. This is a true story and can be verified by LT Joy Houston. I ran into Joy at the hospital post office this morning when I was addressing the last IA gift box and picking up the boxes of candy Mary sent. There were also some boxes from Williams-Sonoma (peppermint dish soap) and a mountain of medical journals and conference announcements so Joy offered to help me schlep my mail to the car. As I was trying to open my car door using my foot and knee, marveling about handicapped people who type and/or paint with their feet, someone walking up the sidewalk behind me offered to help. He was a middle-aged man dressed in Army fatigues with an accent I couldn’t quite place. Kathy: I’ve got it, thanks! You don’t sound like you’re from the United States. Army Guy: I’m from Poland. (Note that he anglicized the pronunciation of his own homeland, which is really Polska). Kathy (glancing at his name tag and noticing a bunch of consonants ending in –ski): Oh, I guess you are! Lots of people in my hometown were the children and grandchildren of Polish immigrants. Say, maybe you can help me. I still remember some of the Polish expressions my friends and I used to say to each other, but I don’t remember what they mean anymore. Army Guy: Like what? Kathy: Well, I’m not sure if I’m pronouncing this correctly, but the one that has really stuck in my head for the past 40 years is “Each-wa pee-eck-wa, skoodva scene.” Army Guy: (eyebrows shooting up) It means, “Go to hell, you SOB.” Kathy: I’m SOOO sorry! We were really such nice Catholic girls. I really didn’t make a habit of talking like that. I swear! No, I don’t mean I swear. Because I don’t swear. Well, hardly ever. I’m sorry I made you swear. Army Guy: That’s okay. You were just curious about those words. Curiosity is not a sin. I’m Father George. (Pointing to miniscule cross pinned above his name tag) I’m a priest. Kathy: Oh. My. God. Did I really just tell a priest to go to hell? Army Guy: You also called me a Son of a B****." I thought this was the funniest thing I had read in a while and it was worth sharing with everyone.