In Plain Engel-ish

Growing up, I remember “milk” almost always meant “whole milk.” Yes, there was chocolate milk, but it never appeared at the Engel breakfast table, no matter how much I begged (“but Mom, Auntie Oxident says chocolate is good for my heart!”). And I’d heard about fat-free milk, but I never knew a kid who had ever tasted it.  But now? A trip to my nearest supermarket dairy case revealed: whole milk, 2% reduced fat, 1% reduced fat, ½% reduced fat (!), skim, organic, lactose free, raw, good ol’ chocolate, strawberry, soy, oat, almond, and “of human kindness.” (OK, I made...

In my junior high physical education class, we had a guest speaker who was on the staff of our city’s AAA baseball team, the Indianapolis Indians. He had brought the team’s catcher with him, who gave us the lowdown on how a catcher signals the pitcher as to what he should throw next. By lowering his right hand between his thighs, where only the pitcher can see it, the catcher signals a fastball, curveball, slider, etc. by the number of fingers he displays. I couldn’t have been more excited by this speaker, and certainly not because I had much interest...

I am sure I knew the definition of “fast” long before I started kindergarten, but as a child I soon decided that its meaning was the exact opposite of “speedy.” The reason for that has to do with my family’s faith, my annoying older sister, and my competitive nature.  My sister is three years older, and so, as a kid, I was an annoying “Me-Too”-er: whatever Gloria could do, I absolutely had to do too. When she first became a teenager, she told my parents that she was old enough to observe the twenty-four hour fast during our holiest holiday,...

When my dad came over from Hungary in 1922, at age 11, he knew virtually no English but learned it quickly, as children do. He loved movies, and since they were all silent films, he would practice reading English from their title cards, which contained all the dialogue. The first movie he ever saw in America was Nanook Of The North, which came out that same year. It was the first documentary film ever made and is still hailed as a true classic. And so all things Eskimo were big in the Engel household. I remember getting a Golden Book...

Bernard Jordan thought he was one lucky Frenchman. An aristocrat, he had been appointed by the king to one of the cushiest jobs in the country. He was put in charge of only seven men who were residing in what had once been, since 1350, a teeming royal prison for the multitude of high-born nobles who had somehow offended the king. Now there were only these seven older gentlemen left residing within the enormous structure. It was used mostly as an armory for storing weapons. Jordan was presiding over what was a virtually empty old folks home, which the king...