No Hablo Ingles

In September of 1995, our third child was born.  What an amazing event for our little family!  We knew his gender in advance and had already decided on a name . . . Jesse Luke.  We were quite excited for Jesse’s arrival.  He showed up late, but was worth the wait.

My husband and I both worked full-time and sought to find a woman who could care for Jesse while we were at work and while his siblings were at school.  It did not take long since the first neighbor that we spoke with was very happy to watch him during the day.

Maria was a fine woman.  Her husband was a local pastor and they had two beautiful daughters.  It could not have been more convenient for us to have them babysit as they lived across the sidewalk from us in our Southern California apartment complex.  Maria’s first language was Spanish, but her English, while broken, was easy enough to understand.

So, Jesse went to Maria’s home every Monday through Friday and was well cared for.  Maria came to love Jesse as her own son.  Her daughter’s loved him as their own brother.  It was such a sweet experience.

Jesse grew and developed.  However, he was a very quiet child.  When I say, he was quiet, that’s an understatement.  He hardly ever made a sound.  He was a good natured toddler, but his silence was alarming to us.  We took Jesse to the doctor to find out if there was anything wrong with his ability to speak or to hear and to find out why he was not talking any baby gibberish yet.

The doctors were unable to find anything wrong.  We took Jesse home and dropped back into our daily routine hoping that, at some point, he would start verbally interacting with us.

One Saturday afternoon, after lunch, I baked chocolate chip cookies.   I offered everyone in the family warm cookies.  I walked over to my 22 month old Jesse and asked, “Would you like a cookie too?”  Jesse looked up and smiled and said, “Si!”  I was completely shocked!  I asked him a question in English and he responded in Spanish.  I was stunned.  So I asked again.  And he replied again in the affirmative in Spanish.

I gave him the cookie and slowly backed away and sat down.  I was quite confused.  I looked to my right, to see if my husband had seen the interaction and I could tell from the look on his face that he had been watching.  Our son spoke Spanish!

As we considered the situation, it totally made sense that all day long, Monday through Friday, Maria was speaking Spanish to her husband, her daughters and apparently to Jesse.  As a result, Jesse was learning Spanish as his first language.  So, when he was with ,in the evenings and on the weekends, he was really quiet since he didn’t understand anything we were saying.  We were so amazed at discovering the cause of his silence.

We had been planning a move from California to Tennessee. The timing was perfect because when we arrived in Tennessee a few months later, we enrolled Jesse in pre-school in our little town and he began to learn English and he became quite the little communicator.  We loved that he was now chatting in English and answering us and interacting with us all the time.

When we look back now, it is such a funny story to tell that Jesse’s first language was Spanish.

"Tribal Tales"  by Diane LeJeune  (c) 2010 Feeling Good Entertainment, LLC & Diane C. LeJeune 

The World is Changing by Jeff Katzenberg

The World is Changing

Some Thoughts on our Business

Memorandum by Jeff Katzenberg

Have you recently re-read the famed 28 page internal memo that Jeff Katzenberg wrote in January of 1991 to Disney execs?  It's worth your time to review your personal and business goals in light of the changes in our world, in social media, and in online opportunities.  Have you drifted away from your original vision?


The World is Changing: 
Some Thoughts On Our Business

http://www.latimes.com/media/acrobat/2011-02/59309732.pdf

How I Met My Wife - article reprint

This is quite clever.  He uses over 60 prefix-less words in this account of how he met his wife.  You'll want to read it slowly and perhaps read it twice.

How I Met my Wife
by Jack Winter
Published 25 July 1994. The New Yorker

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I’d have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn’t be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads and tails of.

I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d’oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. “What a perfect nomer,” I said, advertently. The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.

Baseball According to Tom Hanks

This year we have had an exceptionally cold start to spring.  We are three weeks into the baseball season and with the exception of one game, we have braved freezing or near freezing temperatures to watch Jesse play high school ball every night.  Last night was no different.  It snowed at his double header.  We were curled up in sleeping bags next to the concession stand behind home plate while snowflakes dropped from the sky for both games. 

While I sat all bundled up, with hand warmers in my gloves,  I was reminded of another game that I watched in freezing temperatures about 14 years ago.  The  game that came to mind was a fast pitch softball game and my daughter, Sarah was on the team.  She was eight years old.  She had made a softball travel team out of Franklin, Tennessee.  We were on the road in Chattanooga for this specific tournament and it was cold.  Again, I was all bundled up, but this time there was a coating of snow, probably two inches deep, on the ground.  The field had been cleared a bit, but still they should have called the tournament off due to the bad weather.

In the second game of the tournament, there was a play that I will never forget.  We talk about it from time to time and have a great laugh.  Sarah was playing third base.  It was halfway through an inning and our team was on defense.  There were little 8 year old runners on first and second bases.

A line drive was hit straight to Sarah at third.  Without hesitation, she caught the hit for the first out of the inning.  All the parents cheered!  However, the runner who was on second base did not know to tag back up so she ran to third base where Sarah immediately tagged her out.  Now the stands really went wild.  Nearly all 30 parents who were bundled in the bleachers started screaming at Sarah.  The volume was deafening and it was impossible to make out what they were yelling.

I looked up and saw that the young lady who had been on first had not tagged up either.  She was standing on second base.  She thought she was safe.  The parents in our bleachers wanted Sarah to throw the ball to the second baseman or the short stop in order to get the third out.  But Sarah just stood there with the ball in hand looking confused and unsure what to do in the midst of the chaos.

Finally, the first base coach was able to get the attention of the runner on second base and motioned for her to run back to first base; which she did safely.  So the play was over.  And Sarah stood at her position near third base looking lost.

The next batter struck out.  The bottom of the inning was over and I watched Sarah sadly walk off the field.  She set her glove down on the bench in her dugout and walked directly to me in the bleachers.  All the parents were congratulating her for making a double play and telling her what a great job she did, but she was on the verge of tears and I could see it in her eyes.

I gave her a hug and asked her what was wrong.  Sadly, as the tears spilled from her eyes down her bright, cold, red cheeks, Sarah said, “Mommy, what did I do wrong?  All the parents were yelling and screaming at me, but I have no idea what they were saying.”  I pulled her close again and told her that she had done nothing wrong.  In fact, she had made an amazing unassisted double play and gotten two outs in one play.  Her crying intensified a bit and she asked, “Then why was everyone shouting at me?”  I explained to her about the little girl who had run to second base but had not tagged up.  I said that if she had thrown the ball over to the second baseman, then we might have had another out.  As it was, I communicated to her, it did not matter, because the inning was over and no one scored.  So, I told her that she did not need to worry.  She could go back onto the field, play ball and have fun.  I tried to wipe her tears, but I was not doing a very good job of consoling her since she was still crying.

I asked her why she was crying.  She said that having all the parents mad at her had really scared her.  I did my best to explain that the other parents were not upset with her at all.  I said that I thought they had made a mistake by all screaming at her instead of letting the coach tell her what she needed to do.  But I promised Sarah that no one was angry at her at all.  By this time, many of the other parents were watching the interaction between Sarah and me.  I know some of them felt badly for having screamed at her and upset her.

So, I decided to try a different approach.  I told Sarah to look at me.  She did.  I took her little face in my gloved hands and asked, “Sarah, what does Tom Hanks always say?”  And through her sweet sobbing, my little eight year old daughter took a breath, and sniffled, “There’s no crying in baseball.”  “What was that?”  I inquired.   “There’s no crying in baseball,” she responded with a smile.  All the nearby parents started to laugh at her response, which made Sarah grin.  She took another deep breath, wiped her eyes, gave me a hug, and ran back into the dugout to finish playing the game.

"Tribal Tales"  by Diane LeJeune  (c) 2010 Feeling Good Entertainment, LLC & Diane C. LeJeune 

Ten Storytelling Elements

As I continue to learn more about writing stories, I came across this guide.  I thought I would share it with you.  My stories haven’t followed this exact recipe yet.  I tend to tell stories that have really happened as opposed to making fiction up.  At least so far.  Perhaps, I’ll try it on the next blog.  What are your thoughts?

Ten Storytelling Elements

the Contract

In the very beginning, you have to make a promise.  Will this be violent?  Scary? Fun? Tense? Dramatic?

the Pull

Keep it light in the beginning.  You don’t want to scare people away by being too dense – you must trust the Contract.

the Incident

This is the event that sets everything in motion.  Should occur early and keep the story together.

the Reveal

Just before the Point of No Return, the main character learns what the story is really about.

Point of No Return

The forces of good are face with an impossible decision that concerns fear, safety, love, hate, revenge or despair.

Mini-Climax

Sorry, but you must allow the forces of evil to have an epic win.

All-Is-Lost Moment

The moment where all is lost.  You must portray the deepest despair for the forces of good.

News of Hope

This is the possibility for one of the side characters to shine.  A light that shines into the total darkness of the moment.

Climax

The good puts everything at stake and overcomes – despite impossible odds.

the End

Public displays of relief and happiness, love and forgiveness.  It’s great!  We also learn that the hero has evolved.

doktorspinn.com/storytelling-elements