I was talking with my friend Marc this afternoon about formal titles.  It was fascinating to learn of some of the intricacies of the Dutch language.  For instance, the most proper for of address for a mayor in the Netherlands is De hoogedelgestrenge heer.  Thus, if addressing an official letter to Amsterdam's mayor Job Cohen, you'd address it to "De hoogedelgestrenge heer Cohen."  Literally translated, that means "the highly-noble-very-stern Mr. Cohen."  Isn't that awesome?!?!?  The principal of the high school (let's pretend this one is a woman) would be "De weledelgestrenge vrouwe __________" -- "the definitely-noble-yet-stern Ms. ___________."  Seeing that I serve as the leader of a church community (which tends more towards the Protestant end of the spectrum than the Catholic), it may not be too far-fetched to think that I could be addressed as "De weleerwaarde heer/vrouwe Dominee Asp" -- "The Definitely-Honorable Mister-Reverend Asp."  Sounds kind of nice, huh? :-)  You can find a specific title for just about any role in society on the Wikipedia page about "Aanspreekvorm."

Then I found out about the English equivalents.

To my surprise, there were almost two times as many forms of official "honorifics" in the English language!  Most of us probably know that the President of the United States is officially addressed as "Mr. President."  Or that a judge is typically called "The Honorable Judge __________" (addressed as "Your honor" in a court-room setting).  But did you know that there's also a special form of address for the King of Hungary ("His Apostolic Majesty")?  Or that a bishop in the Church of England should be addressed as "The Right Reverend and Right Honourable _________?"  Crazy stuff, isn't it?  In case you're interested, you can also find more information about English honorifics on the Wikipedia page about "Manner of Address."

I love this kind of stuff in theory.  I hate this kind of stuff in practice.  Good thing almost everyone I know is content to simply call me "Eric."  But if you really wanted to try out "De weleerwaarde heer Dominee Asp," well... I'd be willing to give it a try. :-)

You know that pesky H1N1 virus that's been filling up headlines for the last several months?  It now seems that it's not quite the killer that it was once rumored to be (in fact, I can now say that a personal acquaintance of mine has suffered from -- and safely survived -- the virus); however, I think it still serves as a very interesting sociological study.

You see, in the United States of America, the virus has become popularly known as the "Swine Flu" (since it was originally carried by pigs).  Pigs are presumably innocent, morally-neutral characters in American society -- so nobody is really offended by the label "Swine Flu."  But if anyone were to call it "Mexican Flu" (which is the most popular European name for the disease) -- well, that's borderline racism.  "What?!?  Are you saying that all Mexicans are dirty, disease-carrying mongrels or something?  I can't believe that you would stoop to that level of racial stereotyping!"  So no, no... We'd better call it "Swine Flu" (or better yet, "H1N1").  The poor piggies can't help it.  And believe it or not, the American health authorities have waged a very deliberate PR campaign to make sure that the sickness does not enter the American-English vernacular as "Mexican Flu."  Because there are enough tensions already between whites and Latinos in the United States.  No one wants to go around riling things up based on a name for a flu.

But in the Netherlands, it's interesting to note that the same virus has become (as previously noted) known as the "Mexican Flu" ("Mexikaanse Griep") -- since, well, the virus seems to have originated in Mexico.  And Mexicans are presumably innocent, morally-neutral characters in Dutch society -- so nobody is really offended by the label "Mexican Flu."  But if anyone were to call it "Swine Flu" ("Varkensgriep") -- well, that's just plain culturally insensitive.  "What?!?  We can't have this disease linked to pigs!  Can't you imagine the shame and disgust among the Jews and Muslims, who are very careful never to touch anything related to pigs?  I can't believe you would stoop to that level of cultural insensitivity!"  So no, no... We'd better call it "Mexican Flu" (or better yet,"H1N1").  The poor Mexicans can't help it.  And believe it or not, the Dutch health authorities have waged a very deliberate PR campaign to make sure that the sickness does not enter the Dutch vernacular as "Swine Flu."  Because there are enough tensions already between whites and Muslims in the Netherlands.  No one wants to go around riling things up (or hindering effective treatment of the disease) based on a name for a flu.

Isn't that fascinating?  One culture's good is another culture's bad, and vice-versa.  I've seen it many times in the last several years of living in Amsterdam (my second culture) -- but perhaps never so clearly, and so clearly inverted, as with the naming of the dreaded H1N1 virus...

Did you know that the Dutch translation for the English term "chicken pox" is (literally) "water pox?"  And that the German translation for this same phrase is "wind pox?"  Strange, huh?  And what's strangest of all is that the actual virus has no actual connection to water, wind, or chickens!  Linguistic stuff like that is fascinating to me...

Whatever you call them, I'm glad that they're finally on their way out of our house!  It was three weeks ago today that Olivia first came down with the chicken pox.  And yet we're only just now coming through the final stages of the sickness's aftermath.  Elliot went back to school this week -- but he's only been able to manage half-days, as his system is still wiped-out from battling the chicken pox virus.  Cor, too, has gone back to taking two naps per day for awhile, and it was only today that he was able to return to his one-nap-for-the-day habit.

Habits and attitudes are finally getting back to normal again, too.  Elliot and Olivia are finally getting back to their daily chores.   Cor is finally smiling, laughing, and dancing again.

It feels good to have all that behind us now.

There've been posters around town recently for the Dutch release of Toni Morrison's new novel -- here entitled, "Een Daad van Barmhartigheid."  In my own mind, I would try to translate the title as I'd ride past the posters on my bicycle, trying to guess what the book's original title might have been in English (the American author's native language).  "An Act of Mercy?"  "An Act of Compassion?"  I figured it would be something like that...

But then I was reading in the newspaper the other day, and I saw the book's actual (original) tite:  "A Mercy."

In learning this, I was struck by the absolute mess that can be created by translation -- a mess in which it takes 27 Dutch characters (including spaces) to approximate what the American/English title can do in 7 characters.  This is because in the Dutch language, there is no way of referring to the concept of mercy with a definite article.  Mercy is always something bigger, something broad and conceptual (maybe kind of like the English word "compassion," where it would sound weird to say "a compassion").  So aside from having to use the much more clunky Dutch word "barmhartigheid" (14 letters) instead of "mercy" (5 letters) -- the translators also have to include the extra words to indicate that it's a single, simple expression of that quality instead of the broad conceptual thing.

Isn't that crazy?  I am, perhaps, a bit of a nerd for taking delight in these simple observations of linguistic irregularities... but hey -- it brings me joy.

You want to know something else strange, though?  If I were browsing in a bookstore, considering the titles and the cover art and everything -- I would much more readily pick up a copy of the Dutch "Een Daad van Barmhartigheid" before I'd pick up a copy of the American "A Mercy."  For some reason, it looks and sounds like a much more compelling novel to me (even though it's actually the same story!).  Which one would you prefer (assuming you could read both languages)?

Since we had so much participation in the last mission of the Grammar Police, I thought it might be fun to post another challenge.  Probably a bit more difficult this time around...

The photograph above shows a recent edition of the front page to my hometown newspaper:  The Shelby Daily Globe.  Aside from the amusing title and subject matter of the featured headline and article (which has its own humorous grammatical nuances), there is one particular grammatical error which can be found not once but twice within the context of the article itself.  It's a classical mistake in the grammar of Shelbians -- so classic, apparently, that even the editor of the local newspaper seems to think it's OK.

But you know better than that, don't you?

So tell me:  which grammatical error can be found in the photograph above?  (You may want to check the larger version of the photograph here, to get a better look).  Again, bonus points will be rewarded if the first person to correctly identify the mistake is a non-American.  Triple bonus points if it's a native Shelbian. :-)