Did you know that young men used to place chips of wood on their shoulders as a challenge for competitors to knock off in a scuffle? Thus, when testosterone levels rose in a crowd of males, the saying has arisen that they have a chip on their shoulder. As I researched this fascinating bit of trivia, it occurred to me that the English language is full of such idioms. Imagine the confusion of a newly arrived person from another non-English speaking country as they encounter such sayings we just take for granted.
I decided to mentally picture myself in such a position as a foreign student just having landed in America. My studies of English would make me feel prepared to communicate with a fair amount of ease, until I began to run into some of the idioms. How would I respond by being told by my sponsor that she was sorry about being unavailable to pick me up from my plane ride because she was sick as a dog. How sick is that? Is it contagious? Her neighbor who is giving me a ride tells me not to beat a dead horse with my questions. Why on earth would someone do that? Maybe it was one of the sick animals.
My confusion grows the next day as I walk out of the house. My neighbor asks me if my sponsor is under the weather. Is that because she must stay inside and can’t enjoy the sun? I know better than to ask the neighbor to explain but I grow more confused when he describes my sponsor as the apple of his eye. What possible connection could the unknown fruit have with this neighbor’s eyesight? He also mentions how he’s fit to be tied that my sponsor should be sick just as I arrived. He then goes on to tell me that his daughter and her boyfriend are about to tie the knot. Were they fit to be tied as well, I wonder? Strange customs these Americans have!
I decide to ask my new neighbor friend for advice about the confusing communication patterns I’ve observed. He further bewilders me by commenting that he’s all ears. A quick glance proves this statement to be untrue. While I ponder this latest crazy saying, he interrupts my observations by stating that he was waiting to hear my questions with baited breath. Had he become so broke as to succumb to a diet of worms?
I remain confused but, wishing to stay on good terms, I apologize, stating my uncertainty of how to respond. I grow upset by his next undecipherable statement that he is sure that there is light at the end of the tunnel. What! This is unbelievable! A vision of a multi-eared person who has some weird breathing disorder is traveling down a dark tunnel. Craziness! This language is impossible!
I give up on conversing with this odd character. I see his son watering the yard, so after his father goes inside his house, I try with a younger person, closer to my age. Maybe his language will be more like mine.
However, once again, after outlining my problems with the language, the young man starts speaking in bizarre phrases. He uses culinary terms while trying to advise me on my communication issues, such as recommending that I don’t bite off more than I can chew. Even more unusual, as we continue our conversation, he talks about my necessity to bite the bullet. What kind of diet is that?
Just as I stand there, reeling from the eating references, I ask him to simply tell me what I can do about my language difficulties. Perhaps I could take more classes. He further complicates my life with the statement that I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it. He notices my perplexed expression and comments that he hopes he hasn’t rubbed me the wrong way. Yikes! As far as I know, nobody’s been rubbing anyone. I’m leaving before the situation becomes any more absurd!
I walk down the street, shaking my head, trying to make sense of what I’ve been told. I see up ahead a fellow traveler I met on the plane who has been friendly. When I greet him and inquire what he’s doing, he tells me that he was just shooting the breeze with his neighbor. While I consider how one does this, he smiles and tells me he’d love to talk but he’s just leaving. He parts with the bewildering comment that we can take a rain check on our conversation and tells me not to worry about the language because I’ll get the hang of it. He further states that even though right now I was kind of out in left field, if I kept my nose clean, I wouldn’t put my foot in my mouth too often.
After his departure, I knew I was in trouble. I had made straight A’s in English, studying it in class, but there were apparently some lessons I had missed. How does one place his foot in his mouth even if such action is desired? How does one get the hang of anything–does it involve capital punishment? And, finally, would a right field be superior to the left? I just do not understand.
I sit on a park bench, trying to gather my thoughts and make sense of what has transpired. A couple of young women pass by and further befuddle my understanding.
“Oh, Mary, I just have to let the cat out of the bag. Like a bolt out of the blue, my boyfriend proposed to me. He gave me this ring. It’s the best thing since sliced bread! He’s so sweet, even though he can fly off the handle easy. But he’s really all bark and no bite. He’s just a big teddy bear.
I try to picture some sort of bear who was barked but harmless, although I can’t figure out how he would fly off a handle. It doesn’t seem that sliced bread would make a good ring, at least for long. And why would she keep a poor kitty in a bag in the first place?
I wearily sigh, arising from the bench to travel homeward, planning to study this new language and search in the dictionary for these odd English phrases. This year in America could be a long and overwhelming one.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
