English as the Official Language

Yesterday, I took one of those polls on Facebook. We seem to pass these around to one another. Some are fun and interesting, like what person were you in a former life? How come everybody winds up being Thomas Edison, or Alexander the Great or some such. Why isn't anyone ever discovered to have been Unk Tenlachek from Inner Outer Mongolia? Anyway...the poll I took struck me a particular ague. It dealt with an issue I have wrestled with for some time now. This is an issue that I have often mused upon with greatly mixed emotions. The poll dealt with the adoption of English as the official language of the United States of America. Oh yes...I know that English is the unofficial language but no one seems to have the wherewithal...that is, the courage, to actual put it in writing. Don't we conduct all official government business in English? The last time I checked, everything on the floor of the House and Senate is conducted in English. The Supreme Court, except for necessary and rather perfunctory descents into Latin, proceeds in English. Every State in the Union conducts it's official business in the language of jolly old England. Hmmm....seems pretty official to me. And yet no one has had the veracity to just say...okay guys...look...it's official. The US will speak English.


I am told that this sort of attitude would offend too many people and put up barriers. What about those of us who speak English and who sort of thought that our country did speak English? How about our feelings? We are the majority! (Note...see my previous blog concerning definitions of majority or minority) It would be considered mean spirited and exclusive. I should like to point out that in no other country in the world are you allowed to go about your daily commerce there without speaking the local language. I've never once observed a ballot in Germany written in English, French and Turkish. Don't even get me started about language restrictions in France. No. Only here in America, the Land of the Free and Home of the Litigious do we worry about including every possible language known to mankind in official documentation. That seems to me to create far more barriers than a single language which everyone could utilize.

It's great if you want to take part in the American process, but of course, if you don't speak English, and everything you are doing to partake of the American process is translated into your language, then, in reality, you are actually taking part in the Vietnamese or Latvian process that happens to be in America.



There is a story in the Bible concerning the Tower of Babel. God, (Oh no! He said that WORD again!!! Quick! Quick! Hide the women and children! Put a bag over your head! Arrrrrgh!!!) having been a bit less than happy with the whole idea of the sons of earth trying to build a tower to heaven decided to stop the madness. He divided them up and confused them by giving them different languages to speak. Did you notice....he decided to DIVIDE them? Look, while I am pretty sure that the whole Tower of Babel thing was just a nice tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing (that is...it was a METAPHOR), it does make the case pretty plainly that division because of multiple languages is a foregone conclusion. One language, one cause. Multiple languages, division and disunity and even more important than that; a lack of clear understanding of intent. Wars have been fought because of a mistranslation or a misinterpreted clause. A single word, mistranslated, almost caused the surrender of the Imperial Japanese Government to be disregarded in 1945.



Am I suggesting for a moment that we all speak the same language in our homes? Would I like to see some sort of Newspeak to become our parental tongue? No. Not at all. Languages fascinate me and even as I cloud my head with the seven or eight that I can do pretty well in, I would like to pick up a few more. You know...some of the real easy ones. Ancient Assyrian. Classical Greek. Ancient Hebrew. Heavens above I would be thrilled if I could pick up some Zulu and Hindi. Everyone who has the slightest desire to speak their own mother tongue, or some other that they have wished to learn, should have the freedom to do so. But in the general commune, in the course of public business and in the common social intercourse that makes up the day to day transaction of business in these United States. The language of choice...the Lingua Franca of the United States of America...if you will (and pardon the pun) should be English.



I lived in California for eleven years. Ballots there are drawn up in so many languages as to make carrying one from the polling station to the poll officer an act of weight lifting! A law that would make English the official language may seem mean spirited and divisive. But I disagree entirely. So...the next paragraph is what I had originally posted to my Facebook page.


Our beloved country is in imminent danger of losing its identity by taking on the identity of so many others. I don't believe for a moment that we should be completely homogeneous. How boring and insanely short sighted that would be. But unity... as a people speaking one language would build permanent bridges within our own fragmented communities. I speak several languages, but I don't want to HAVE to speak them to do business in our city. I want my family to be broadly culturally educated and I want my children to be multi-lingual, but this is as a matter of choice, not a requisite for being able to drive down the street. Someone earlier commented about street signs not in English in some cities. Amen. I have driven in some cities in the US where not only business signs, but all signage is in another language. This is the USA. Whatever you speak at home is up to you, but refuse to speak English in general community and you forgo your rights as an American Citizen.




So...there that is. Facebook only gives you a certain amount of space in which to state your case or tell everyone what you are up to at the moment. By the by Chauncey...do we really need to know when someone is taking a bathroom break?

A few further notes concerning my Facebook post. I think everyone should learn a second language. It should be a mandate of our public schools to insure that by the time a person receives their high school diploma, they should have a certain degree of fluency in a language of their own choice. They should be encouraged, as well as can be, to pursue the further study of that language in College.

I started to learn German in grade school when a passion for the dark and sinisterly interesting period of the Third Reich shaped an interest in military history that, to date, has not abated in the least. I actually studied German in the classroom in high school. I wanted to study German military history in great depth. I was considering becoming a writer of history and of historical novels, so it only followed suit that a complete grasp of the Teutonic Tongue would be a sensible course to follow. It was also in my first year of high school that I discovered a great love for opera. Oddly enough, I found that my voice, which had been accustomed to shaping the echos of the dulcet tones of Roy Orbison and Glen Campbell, were better suited to recreate the baritone roles of Verdi, Mozart, Puccini and all the rest. So, I also studied, in my spare time; Latin, Italian, French and Russian. One does not sing opera, at least not effectively, without truly understanding what you are singing about. Since the vast majority of opera or so-called 'serious music' in is one of those tongues, I tried to study as much as I could on my own. It paid off. I also started picking up Japanese about the same time. That however came about as a result of being absolutely enraptured by the films of one Akira Kurosawa. Spanish came to me out of the requirements of being a police officer in California. Arabic was added to my repertoire when I spent nearly two years in Jordan. Now...am I completely fluent in all of these languages? No. But can I ask basic questions, find out where the men's room is, ask for the directions to the places I want to go or have some polite if somewhat simple conversations? Yes. But with all of that said, these are options I elected to pursue. Not something I had to do to get through my day. Yet...in order to do my job in Pasadena, California, I had to learn at least a modicum of Spanish and got good enough at it that I received language pay for a number of years. If you want to go to certain places in the suburbs of Detroit, you had better speak Arabic. Koreatown in Los Angeles speaks for itself and there are places in Glendale and Pasadena, California where a knowledge of Armenian actually is de rigeur. That is all great for the folks who live there. But what if you are just passing through and don't happen to speak Korean. Can you read the signs? No. The likelihood is, if you find a service station and stop to ask directions, you have fifty-fifty chance of having someone who hasn't a clue as to what you are asking.

Now...realistically, if you have the same problem in some small town in Maine or Alabama, you have the distinct possibility of coming across someone who doesn't speak English the way you do in your town of Anytown USA. But the greater possibility is that, the accent may be acute, but it still be English. And you will be able to figure it out. If the person is speaking Farsi or Tagalog...not so much.

Long story short...English needs to be the general language. Just in case. And it certainly needs to be the official language...in every case.

The Pledge of Allegiance

I will begin this blog by posting something that I wrote on my Facebook page today. This prompted my wife to ask me if I needed a blog. I had never seriously consider such an option before. But...the answer to her question, which was posed in all good humor, is the creation of this page on which I am now writing.

Let me begin by stating at once, that I am not a person who believes in absolutes. Absolutely NOT! Oh wait...what just happened there? Not even a full paragraph into my first blog and already I have created a conundrum for myself. Anyway...what I mean to say is that in my fifty-one years and counting of life, I have learned that if anything is certain, it is that things will change. I am neither fazed by nor frightened by change. It has to happen. Change is a good thing! If things never changed we would all still be living in the tops of trees debating just how insensible it would be to try to make a go of it on the ground. On the ground??? Where the dirt and bugs and animals are? Puuhleez!!! Things have to change. And yet certain things should not be made to change or to be disgarded merely because a minority of people (and let me digress immediately here to make the point that a minority of people are those who are fewer in numbers than the majority of people, hence the term 'minority') are bothered, offended or afraid of them. If the majority of people, and again, I pause to suggest that the 'majority' of people are those greater in number than the minority, are in agreement that something is good, then that thing should be left alone. Some things should be left alone. Consider if you will the current debate over retaining or disgarding the Pledge of Allegiance.

It would seem that a very vocal minority (see above for definitions) are once again calling for the wholesale destruction of the Pledge of Allegiance. Or at the very least, they are clamouring to get rid of the purile and insensitive phrase "under God". Yes, I do know that it was not originally part of the Pledge. But it has been part of the Pledge ever since I have been reciting it, so to me, it makes sense. I have been reciting this Pledge for as long as I can remember. I don't once recall anyone, ever, saying to me..."Hey! You cut that out! I am OFFENDED!" Or shreiking "What! Don't you say 'God' in my presence! How dare you bring religion into this!" Granted, I guess the reason for that was that I have always been surrounded by people of a like mind on the matter. You know...Americans? I guess if during my three year stay in the Federal Republic of Germany, if I had attempted to recite the Pledge at a non-US Army function, it may have been a bit awkward. Or...if during my recent stint as a Police Instructor in Amman, Jordan, had I gone to the Local Mosque and started off my beloved Pledge, yes...it may have been taken as an offensive thing. But we're talking about reciting it here, In the USA. And by saying that I have always been surrounded by people of a like mind, I mean Americans. That is, Americans who are proud of their nation. Every time I recit the much maligned Pledge, I still get a serious thrill out of it. It's rather like the Lord's Prayer. Every time I recite the Lord's Prayer, whether it be at Mass (oh...sorry...you didn't notice the last name was Finley? You didn't notice that I descend from the Auld Sod? You didn't observe then that I am....gasp and wait for it....an Irish Catholic? Oh...Lawdy Lawdy Help me! I'm such a stereotype! Quick...get Hollywood on the phone...surely there is call for a reality TV show about the trials and tribulations of an Irish Catholic. We'll put Jon and Kate off the air in a fortnight!!! No one will ever have need to visit the subject of the Octomom, Michael Jackson or Angelina Jolie again!!!) I get a serious lump in my throat and often, tears in my eyes. Both the Pledge of Allegiance and the Lord's Prayer have that effect on me.

Pause for a moment for me to clear the air on something. I am about as Irish as Emperor Hirohito. Yes, yes. I know I look the part. I have blue eyes, fair skin and white hair. But just because there was a fellow at some point, long ago whose name was Finley, and from whom I happened to be descended, it doesn't make me the heir apparent to the True Irish Crown. I will state, clearly and for the record, that I am adamently opposed to anyone hyphenating themselves. It's all well and good to state for the record that one is of Irish extract, or that your roots go back to Paris before the Terror. It is a good thing to know where one comes from. But I don't like anyone being a (fill in the blank) hyphen American. Either your in or your out. Either your American, or your not. If you feel the need to put something else in front of being an American, then you don't really respect who we are or what we have come through as a nation. But...I digress. However, do stay tuned to that subject, because one of my next few blogs will tread heavily on this whole "I am a hyphenated American" pile of doody.

Clearly, before you even read what I wrote for my Facebook page, you, my dear reader(s), if any, have already sleuthed out the fact that I am a fan of the Pledge. Bravo! Read on then and see what madness led me to start what I hope will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship between us:

Pledging Allegiance

Pledging allegiance to our country and to the institutions which have given us so much is a noble, almost sacred thing. It is something every American should take seriously. As a citizen of this great nation, naturally born or naturalized, if you wish to partake in all that is America, you SHOULD pledge allegiance. You need not agree with every decision that issues forth from Washington D.C., but here at least, in America, you have the right to disagree. You even have the right to oppose it and possibly have it reversed in the political process. Try that in Iran or North Korea. Try having a Town hall meeting in Zimbabwe. If you don't agree with America, return with all speed to your native soil where life was clearly more free and so much more fulfilling! Do not come to our country to make a better life for yourself, and then try to change this nation into the very one you just left. Does anyone else see the dichotomy there? People who come here, or who were born here, and who find the need to hyphenate themselves and invent reasons to destroy such fine institutions such as the Pledge of Allegiance have only a single intent in mind; division. If you cherish any other place in the world so much that you feel the need to recreate it here , by speaking only your native language, by building enclaves of only your own people, or by saying that Pledge of Allegiance offends you...then please, by all means head back to your native land and enjoy! If life was so rosy for you back in dear-old-wherever, then please...by all means, the next flight leaves within the hour. If you are to be an American, then have the courage to call yourself an American! Act as an American. Delete the hyphen, the color and the national origin from your identity. Be an AMERICAN! Take the rights and responsibilities that go along with that including pledging ALLEGIANCE. THIS is the United States of America. This is the place where freedom allows dreams. I FIRMLY pledge allegiance to that.

Wow...okay...granted I am not Rush Limbaugh (thank you Jesus!) or Arianna Huffington (I lack the proper biological equipment, although I suppose in her case that is debatable) but even I can sense that the person who wrote the above statement is a proud American. Indeed I am! Let me wax a little less than poetically about my American background.

I was born and raised in Flint, Michigan. My father, Billie Randle Finley Sr., was a General Motors assembly line worker and my mother, Rosetta Mae Finley née Jackson, was a stay-at-home wife and mother who raised four children. My parents were both born and raised in Arkansas as were my three older sisters. The family moved to Michigan in 1951 so that my father could work for GM through the winter of '51-'52. But since he never left Michigan until the winter of '80 when he retired from GM, it was, as he was fond of saying, a very long winter.

Of course, when I say my father was an assembly line worker, what I really mean was that was his day job. Or rather, his night job when I was very, very young. Prior to and for a few years after my totally unexpected arrival in November 1957, he also ran a service station and owned a car lot. He worked as a building contractor and built a number of houses in the Flint area in the late '50's. In his spare time (was there any?) he did bump and paint work in our yard to make a few extra bucks. Oh no...we were never wealthy by any stretch. You see, he HAD to work those insane hours because he had four kids and a wife to care for. And he was the kind of man who was going to pull the weight himself. When my mother once suggested that she could get a job at GM and help him pay the bills, he told her that was fine, but on her way to the GM employment office, she needed to make one stop first. She needed to go by the courthouse and file for divorce because no wife of his was going to work. She was going to stay home and take care of the house and kids. Good God! What a blinkered, philistine, pig-ignorant philosophy! What a horribly unenlightened savage he must have been! Probably some knuckle dragging, beer swilling, wife beating type with all the charm and sophistication of a sea lamprey.

Say that to my face and I will deck you with all the power my six-foot-six inch, three-hundred pound frame will muster.

My father was a very good man. My mother a very good woman. Together were a magnificent and indestructible team. Like just about every American from my generation, my parents were children of the Depression and they believed in family first above all. They believed in friends and in freedom. They believed in America. They knew, because they had learned, through the dubious distinction of having lived during the horror and magnificent desperation of both the Great Depression and World War II, that if one had no freedom, then one had no life. Money means nothing if you don't have the freedom to live the life you want to live. Better to live dirt poor than to live a repressed, enslaved life. They knew that it took hard work to make things happen. They knew, that if you didn't take care of yourself and your family, no one else would. They trusted in God and in each other. They Pledged Allegiance every day of their lives. Every act of rising in the morning to face the new day was a pledge of allegiance to each other, to us kids and to the Nation that nurtured us. Every time my mother told me she loved me, or said that to one of my sisters or spoke it to my father, it was complete and compelling recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. Each time my father said it to me, it was a resounding declaration of the freedoms that this great nation provides. Each time I say it to my wife or children, it echos back to my childhood and even before my meagre existence with the voice of every American or every person who ever aspired to BE an American. Read it, live it and be it.

I pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America,
And to the Republic for which it stands,
One nation, Under God,
With Liberty and Justice for All.