Spanish spoken here, más o menos.

I’ve always found that Spanish-speakers are much more tolerant of non-speakers’ butchering their language than, say, the French.  The other day I drove a woman to the ISAP office in Marlton, where I went with a father and son a few weeks ago.  There’s just a big waiting room when you enter and no bathroom facilities unless you enter the secure area, which I can’t.  So in my Spanish I said to her the equivalent of “I need I go to the to bathe.”  Without batting an eye, or smirking, she just said, “Sí.”  And off I went to the McDonald’s down the road.  (In my defense, I’d picked her up two hours earlier than my usual time to get out of bed and had not drunk any coffee or tea, or I wouldn’t have made it that far without a pit stop.)

When when we moved to San Antonio in 1978, I bought Kendris’ 501 Spanish Verbs.

Over the past 40 years it’s gotten a lot of use.  Since I’m needing it now more than ever, I’m having to retire my old copy.  Just retire to the back of the shelf.  We retirees like to hang around with each other, however many cracks, dents, and tears there might be.



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