One more English word to learn

I told and retold this story many times before. Now I decided to put it on paper. Some of my friends already know that story, but to all other readers I promise, - it is going to make your day! I intended to make you laugh and I hope you will.

And please, don't forget to let me know about it. I'll be waiting for your comments and opinion.

One more English word to learn

I opened my eyes. Where am I? Am I really in America or it is just a dream? The last few days happened too quickly. Everything was unbelievable, too condensed, too emotional. I looked around. The room was half-empty. Small disproportional to the size of the entire off-white wall, little squeezed windows were pushed all the way up to the upper edge. The nightstand lamp was attached to the middle of the ceiling upside down... Yes, it was definitely a nightstand lamp.

Oh, yes, I did that yesterday... I thought it would be better that way. Maybe not. It looks odd.

Lily was still sleeping by my side. Good. Our bed was so high, wow! I slid down to the floor and walked toward the window. The sun was bright, and the morning sky was blue already. The bright light blinded me for a second. I squinted my eyes, looked up at the sky again and... I couldn't believe it.

There was a hot-air balloon in the sky! Beautiful, colorful, just like in the movies. We knew hot-air balloons only by the Jules Verne's novels. I've never seen a real one before.

- Am I sleeping? - I thought and pinched myself.

No, I wasn't asleep, and it wasn't a dream.

I was standing in our apartment's bedroom in America!

And yes, there was a real hot-air balloon flying in the sky!

It was only yesterday morning when Lily, I and our three-year-old Mark flew over to Des Moines.

The family, new neighbors, and the Jewish community there met us very well.

Everyone was so nice. They gave us an apartment with some donated furniture and clothes. An apartment would be ours to stay for three months until I find some job to make up for it. New friends, the neighbors, and the family brought us a lot of wonderful food and drinks with dazzling colorful labels and staffed every shelf of our pantry and refrigerator. And yes, we had the one humongous refrigerator!

And we got another machine they call dishwasher. Wow!

In America, people do not wash dishes by hand anymore. America, what a country!

And we got the garbage disposal! Yes!

I have heard about it before. That was another big Wow!

If one happened to have some kitchen scraps left, no need for a wastebasket, just dump it into the kitchen sink and that waste instantly disappears in the swirling drain! I ate a banana and threw the banana peel into it. I pushed the button, and it was gone! Wow!

All the rooms, except for the kitchen, had floors covered with plush carpet. It was another big Wow! Who needs a bed if the entire floor is as soft as a mattress.

The furniture obviously wasn't new, but it was okay, as everybody said around here. Okay. I liked this word right away. There was a huge green corner sofa in the living room, a small TV, and a coffee table. We also got our personal bedroom with two big mattresses, one was laid on the top of another. It was an American way, as they explained to us. In our apartment there was another smaller bedroom with a separate bed for Mark. All the mattresses were old and spotty, but we covered them with the bed sheets and it was okay for now. We found some bricks outside and put those under the mattresses like the legs to elevate them from the floor, so it would be more comfortable. We slept high up, like a royalty.

Mark's bed was very good actually, almost like new, and he instantly fell asleep in it.

Everything was good there, but the lights. There wasn't a chandelier in any of the rooms. They gave us some nightstand lamps instead. Those looked like a grandpa's desktops, actually. We were supposed to plug those lamps into the electric wall outlet to lighten the room with it. We weren't accustomed that way. I noticed that the apartment next door was in remodeling. They had a big container set outside for the construction waste. It took me a minute to find a perfectly good piece of used electric wire there. I turned the nightstand upside down and nailed it to the ceiling.

We got us the chandelier! It wasn't pretty, but it was serving the purpose better, or so I thought.

But over Mark's bed it wasn't enough light to read a book to him. Mark never went to sleep without a goodnight story.

Back in Riga, it was a customary to put a light on the wall over the child's bed.

Somebody told us that there was a store nearby where we could buy everything we ever wanted. Perhaps we will go there today. At the airport they lost our luggage and gave us 20 dollars for the necessities while the luggage would be located and brought back to us. America, what a country!

Meanwhile, Lily woke up and together we prepared our first American breakfast.

We started from the glass of cold and sweet orange juice, like Americans.

We had some eggs and a toast. We did the eggs like we always do, but the toast was something new to us. The bread was somewhat unusual. It was very soft and pre-cut, very thin already. We had to use the toaster to make it more-less edible. We didn't like it really, but it was all right.

- Do you think we can go to that store they told us about last night? - I asked.

- Oh, yes, I would like to! What do you think we should wear? - Lily was very excited.

- Something presentable, I think. I can wear my Italian shoes, - I said.

Those shoes were so precious to me that for the flight I didn't put them in the suitcase that was lost, actually. I had those beside me in a handbag. We purchased those shoes at the famous Round Market in Rome, the one place where you could buy everything from bananas to jewelry. In our last few days in Italy, we had a little money left, as a matter of fact, it was only a few dollars worth, and we bought some shoes there. Lily got some elegant high heels summer shoes, and I bought the real dream shoes of my life. I've never even seen one's like that before. Those shoes had something unusual, and I liked it right away for it. The shoes were off reddish-brown, almost orange but not quite, a simple slip-on without the laces, but yet dressy. A bit feminine because of the pointed nose and a wide high heel, but yet manly enough because of the significant size and a metal buckle. The leather was very thin and gentle, so much that I could see every knuckle of my toes, every crumple on my skin. If you ask me, was it comfortable? I would definitely say, Oh, no! But it was so, so fashionable...

(At this point I need to stop and to make a certain explanation, especially for the unprepared American reader. Riga of the 1970s-80s was an unprecedented fashion capital of the country. We, who grew up in the central part of town, were not really snobby per se, but a product of a special cultural upbringing and paid a lot of attention to the clothes we wore and to the way we publicly presented ourselves. A young woman never would show herself in a public without makeup and wearing flat bottom shoes. That would be understood as a disrespect to others and to her own self-esteem. The same would apply to men as well. Every part of your wardrobe should be particular to all details, as a number of holes in the buttons, style, and type of the thread in the seam and so on.)

- I think my new shoes will go well with the suit I got yesterday. As a matter of fact, that would be very good, don't you think... -

Lily didn't hear me. She was busy getting Mark ready. Our son was just like a little angel, not only because of the beautiful golden locks of hair that nicely girdled his little cute face but because of his very polite and grown-up demeanor.

Lily dressed him into the red, white, and blue polo-shirt and denim boy’s coveralls. He also had his favorite Russian made baseball hat (We didn't know yet that it was a baseball hat. It was just some colorful cap for us, that's all).

The cap was all white, with a red top, and had a picture of the popular Russian cartoon character, the Hare. The name of the cartoon was spelled there in bright Russian letters: "Ну, заяц, погоди!" that could be translated like,

"Well, Hare... I gonna get you, you just wait!".

Lily chose to wear a light purple satin dress that nicely supplemented her flawlessly built skinny fashionable body and was perfect with her new Italian high heels.

And I... I was just grandiose.

A three-piece suit waited for me in the bag with the other donated clothes.

It was made of the yellowish-beige corduroy with the bell-bottom pants, and the brown leather on every button made it look like a bunch of little footballs on the jacket and the west. That was awesome!

My new Italian shoes were just a right match for the suit. I also chose a hippie style flowery shirt and matching red socks. I was ready to go!

Our apartment was by three quarters below the ground level. This was why the windows were up at the edge of the ceiling and the walls looked so wide and empty. All three of us went upstairs to go outside and came out to the courtyard at once.

The day was beautiful. A swimming pool was in the courtyard with many people in and around it. People weren't quite like we imagined the Americans before. They were dressed in lousy tees and jeans' cutoffs. It surprised us not to see any actual swimsuits there. But after all it was Des Moines, Iowa, 1980. Men and women were dressed almost alike, overweight, and eating constantly. Even while in the water! It was a long weekend; we were told, the Independence Day. I had a Russian-English dictionary with me, but forgot to check what the meaning of the word independence was.

People noticed us and stared. Our entrance was shocking for both sides. For us and for them! We were truly aliens to them, just like they were totally misconceived by us. When they saw us, the whole pool party stopped. Somebody even turns off the music. It was like us and them, the Americans and the visitors from another world.

- How do you do, - I said, as I remembered this greeting from my school.

And somebody turned the music back on.

We quietly proceed toward the courtyard exit.

- It could be we weren't dressed properly, that's all.

We understood that much.

We came across the parking lot and got to the street. I wouldn't call it a street necessarily, a roadway perhaps.

A lot of traffic was there, big trucks mostly, but not a pedestrian walkway anywhere, understandably so, there weren't any pedestrians, just us. All the way around us was a cornfield on the left and another on the right. Upon the hill, we saw a giant American flag, and it was beautiful.

Somewhere behind the flag should be the store we were going to, that we had been told yesterday. I remembered the name of the store, K-mart. Mart, like a month of March in Russian, and letter K in front of it, like a Russian letter for a cat. March's cat (Мартовский Кот) in Russian would be a name for a horny spring-cat who is desperate to find himself a lady. Easy to remember, isn't it?

And by the shoulder of the road we went.

July in Iowa is one of the hottest months. It was about 100F outside. We knew the degrees in Celsius, but our Celsius, the one we were accustomed too, didn't even come close to such high temperatures. The store was about 2-3 miles away from the flag and the road went a little uphill. We were determined to buy a wall lamp and walked along the way one after another, as a roadway shoulder was narrow and covered with the loose gravel. I put Mark on my shoulders. In the left hand, I carried the Russian-English dictionary, like a pilgrim would carry a bible. Lily tried to walk behind me. It wasn't easy on her high heels and it wasn't easy on mine's either. The sweat covered me so badly that it ran down inside my suit and dripped down from my horseshoe-shaped mustaches. I didn't have the gray hair back then, but from the road dust my Frank Zappa’s style hairdo looked totally gray. Every truck that passed us by blew the horn and then, perhaps not intentionally, covered us with the thick cloud of gray road dust. Truck drivers looked at us with an interest and shouted something smilingly. We didn't understand back then; it was us probably who were the original real cause for first Iowa's truck drivers F-bomb. When saw us, every one of them, more likely, was shouting,

- what the F***! -

And so, finally, we came to the store. Covered with the sweat and road dust, sore from the swollen ankles because of high heels, suffering from the crucial pain in the toes caused by the extremely tight, but elegant Italian shoes we came through the door into the cold womb of the giant American purchasing commerce monster.

Oh, how enormously huge it was! Shiny, noisy, with many people moving around in a pattern of the Brownian motion. The one very horny spring cat's store, the K-mart, was very impressive!

We needed to locate an electric department.

- Do you know how to say "a wall lamp" in English, - Lily asked me.

- If not, you should use the dictionary, - she suggested.

- Don't you worry, - I replied.

- I know how to ask. We called the wall lamps "Bra" in Riga. That's right? "Bra" wasn't a Russian word at all. Didn't sound like a Russian word, more likely some European saying. If it is European, English-speaking people should understand what it is.

See, we don't really need a dictionary! Let's go and ask - I declare.

And with those words, I bravely approached the store employee.

- "Do you spik englis?", - I ask her, just to start a conversation.

- Yes, - she smiled, - How can I help you?

I didn't really catch the rather complicated American English phrase she said, and so I continued:

- "We lukin for BRA", - I tried to pronounce every English word the best way I could.

- Aisle number 6, - she replied.

I was ecstatic, it thrilled me, it elated me. She understood me on the first try! Joyfully we all proceeded to the aisle number 6. To our disappointment, we found anything but not a wall lamp we were looking for in that aisle. There were long shelves full of brassieres, panties, and lingerie of all kinds, but nothing electrical at all.

- She just misunderstood me, - I told Lily.

- American English is a little different from the one I am accustomed too, - I said.

I actually wasn't much accustomed to any English at all back than, but I was too proud to admit it. My vocabulary was limited to: "Hello, Goodbye, My name is Aleksander, I love you and the one famous phrase from the Beatles "Kam togezer rright nau!"

We got out of the aisle number 6 even though Lily was really interested and didn't want to leave. But it wasn't the right time for the woman's underwear, our first priority was "BRA!"

I approached a man in an employee uniform. Little Mark still was sitting on my shoulders admiring everything in his view.

- "Iskuz me", - I said, trying to be very clear.

- "Do You Spik Englis?"

- Yes, I do, - he smiled.

Why all those people always wear a smile on their faces, - I thought.

To me there was nothing funny in that situation. I was very serious.

- "Ve lukin for BRA", - I said. I tried to pronounce every English word even better than before.

- Aisle number 6, - a salesman replied and walked away smiling.

- Maybe the lamps would be at the end of the number 6, - Lily suggested, and we went back again.

No, to my disappointment it was nothing but the unmentionables there.

Suddenly Mark pulled me by the hair and said in Russian: "Look, Papa, Lampa," and he showed to the opposite side of the store.

- O, my G-d! You are UMNITSA! ("a smart boy" in Russian), - I screamed, and we quickly ran down the main store aisle.

Yes! It was an electric department. It wasn't self-serving, and on the wall behind the counter was she, the long hunted for her majesty the BRA!

It was perfect. It was exactly the one we were looking for. Two lights covered with the white porcelain fixture shades pointed downwards.

And the price was a good one, $9.99 - we had enough money.

Finally, the fortune turned toward us that day. Or so we thought...

The lady behind the counter was of the rather large complexion and wasn't of a smiley kind.

I politely approached her and began my conversation as before, but very cordially.

-"Iskuz me", - I said

-"Do You Spik Englis?" - I said that phrase, as attentively as I could, I paused for a few seconds and followed my inquiry with the big American smile.

- "Ve lukin for BRA"

- Aisle 6, - she replied.

That was cold. That was not what I expected at all.

- "Damn you, dumb people!" - I would off said that, but I didn't know how to say it.

- "Ve lukin for BRA," - I insisted - " Do you underrstand? BRA! I put on vall. My son rid buk ..."

I didn't even know how all those good English words came out of me.

But the lady behind the counter didn't show even a shade of understanding.

- "Papa, Papa, Lampa" - screamed little Mark from my shoulders showing me the wall lamp right over the head of the saleslady.

It frustrated me. I felt defeated and disenchanted at the same time. The aspiration of our entire journey for a BRA was failing, and yet my goal was so near, in front of my very eyes, just behind the huge figure of the rigorous saleslady.

I desperately extended my arms forward toward the wall lamp.

I turned the palms of my hands and the fingers down to make it look like the shape of two lamp shades on the wall behind the guardians of the saleslady. Little Mark mimicked me and did the same. Doing so, I almost touched the humongous breasts of the iron lady. It just so happened that my hands, her breasts, and the white porcelain shades of the so much desired wall lamp got to be on the same line, on the same trajectory. It happened by itself. I didn't foresee that, but she, as she was probably instructed for, suspected the foul play. My heart was bitting irregularly. My eyes, red from the road dust and disappointment, got wet.

- "Plis, give me BRA, - I said pleadingly, - It for my son. Ve put bra on vall. Ve vil rid buk..."

For a second everything got quiet.

- Maybe she understood me finally, - a thought ran through my head.

But yet the little tiny hope was already lifeless.

A Saleslady got red in the face and screamed out loudly:

- Security! -

That was the other word, I didn't know the meaning of, Security!

The security happened to be two uniformed men, of the very large size also, who escorted us, Lily, myself and a little Mark out of the store to the boiling Iowa's summertime.

We were disillusioned, upset, and down foiled. We lost our first encounter in America, with that horny cat monster store named K-mart, who refused to understand us.

The way back home was even harder than before. On top of everything, I tore the back of the one so elegant, Italian shoe.

Discouraged, we came back and quietly walked by the far side of the courtyard, so people at the pool wouldn't notice us.

We were expecting a company that night. Some new neighbors and family prepared a special welcome dinner for us and promised to show us a beautiful firework later that night. That was our first full day in America, after all.

Our sister-in-law already was in our apartment waiting for us. She and the family came to Des Moines three years ago and therefore knew and understood everything. She was a very present-day stylish lady and her English was absolutely perfect. She smoked those long and elegant cigarettes called Saratoga. We pictured one day to become people like her.

She noticed our sour faces and inquired what happened. In not that many words, I explained the gist of our disappointing experience. And how we desperately failed to buy a simple "BRA".

She stopped smoking, put down her cigarette, looked at us with the obvious curiosity, and suddenly bursted out in uncontrollable laughter. She fell on the sofa and then rolled down to the floor laughing unstoppably. And we? We just stood without a shadow of understanding. Finally, she stopped laughing.

- The bra is a brassiere in English, you are so silly, - she said still trying to catch her breath from the extreme laughter.

I was in a shock! If only we would know! Actually, everything genius was so simple, one just needs to understand it. Once again, we realized that we had to drop everything we thought we knew and to learn everything from the beginning.

And we started from learning another one important American English word - The BRA.

Every new word in our vocabulary was important.

I took the nightstand lamp down from the ceiling. That was idiotic of me. We just started our new life in our new country among the people we called Americans!

It would be definitely better for us to observe and learn the American way.

Later that day we had a dinner. And we all went to see the beautiful firework after. The whole country celebrated Independence day and we - Lily, I, and a little Mark celebrated ours.

Now, 40 years later, I have an old shoebox way down at the bottom of my closet. There is a pair of beautify-elegant Italian man's shoes, almost new, worn just once, and the one shoe torn on its backside.

Every man has the shoes he wore just once...

Alex Mirsky

April, 2020