Blogger's Note: Score one for the blogger! I have been trying five hundred and fifty different things to resolve a problem I've been having on here. The problem was writing Polish characters. Some of their letters have strange accent marks; and, for the life of me, I just couldn't seem to figure out how to write them.
"Blogspot" (or "Blogger" as I believe it's called now) is a Google site. So, sometimes I would use Google Translate to generate a Polish word that I needed, Then I could copy/paste it to the desired location. Sometimes, but rarely, this works. Usually, however, the text looks slightly different; and, often, it would make every word after that come out in that strange, new font. I found a solution online was to go into the HTML coding and delete certain words. This technique also worked with varying degrees of success. Once again, usually the font of the accented word was slightly different. Also, I wasn't able to get an italicized or capitalized version of a word I needed. It just bothered me.
I knew that I had a couple of upcoming features where I'd need to use a lot of Polish, and I really wanted a permanent solution to this dilemma.
In case you hadn't already figured it out, Joanna is the person that provides me with the Polish translations. I text her the sentence(s) I want translated, and I ask her to return it to me in Polish as close to an exact translation as is possible. Her phone is set to write, and even auto-correct, in Polish; so, she doesn't have any problems giving me the accented characters as they should be written. I asked her to email me the translations, because I thought that since I use a Gmail account and Gmail is Google, then maybe the copy/paste technique would work. Unfortunately, the background color would also paste just around the letters, as it did in "The Sound of Life".
So, the other day, I dug in. I searched and googled and studied until I finally figured out how to adjust the settings in Windows so that I can easily toggle between Polish and English. Now, all I need to do to type a Polish character is hold down the right "Alt" button and strike the letter. Wspaniały!
Now, on to today's episode...
In case you're new and would like to know where this story begins, you can start with "Chapter 1 - The Tea Monster" and follow the links to get caught up. Or, if you'd like, just jump right in...
I'm afraid I have to tell you something. I made a mistake. I think. As I was putting the finishing touches on the outline to bring this story home, I noticed I couldn't get the story to fit in sixteen chapters. I know, I know. I promised. And hasn't this thing been drug out enough??
Well, I'm not going to make any promises; but, I think I'll just need one extra chapter. Yes, I know that messes up my nice, OCD package of 4 phases of 4 chapters. But, I need this story to come out of the wash nice and clean.
So, I'm not going to commit to anything yet. I'll keep you appraised as this last "How We Got Married" segment unfolds. Sometimes the story takes me to a place just a little different than I originally imagined. So, I'm not sure exactly where we'll be when Chapter 16 arrives; although, I have a pretty good idea. Let's just ride this thing until it's time to get off, shall we? I apologized, so you have to forgive me. What I can promise you is a commitment to make this final approach as fun as I can make it. Hang on, we're getting there... ...but, first, there's something Joanna wants me to do...
Listening to: Ingrid Michaelson "You and I"
Joanna's laptop sat on the hotel room table facing us as a digital ringtone buzzed and paused, buzzed and paused. A webcam was facing us as we nervously sat on the edge of the bed waiting for a response. Taped to the wall behind the camera's eye was a cardboard panel with strange words written in black, permanent marker. I was fidgeting, so Joanna patted my knee. I half-expected her to say, 'it will be ok.' But she didn't.
"Cześć." At last, a pleasant-looking lady appeared on the monitor; she was busily arranging her camera before maneuvering her seat to face us. She straightened when she finally sat down and looked at her monitor, noticing me for the first time. She raised her eyebrows and partially smiled; but, before she could say anything, Joanna spoke.
"Cześć, możesz zawołać tatę?"
The lady, apparently Joanna's mother, looked at her daughter inquisitively. She stood again and paused; I got the impression that she wanted to say something. After a moment's hesitation, she exhaled and walked away.
"I asked her to get my father," Joanna explained. I felt a wave of anxiety turning my stomach.
When Joanna had told me that Polish custom was to ask the girl's father for permission to get married, my immediate response was 'how?'. I didn't know Polish, and her parents were on the other side of the world. She told me that she talked to her parents every day by video chatting with them online; I could ask him over the internet. If I was going to marry her, I would need his blessing.
"So, how do you say, 'can I marry your daughter?' in Polish?" I had asked.
"Czy mogę prosić państwa córkę o rękę?" Joanna demonstrated. I gasped and looked at her as though she were crazy. I'd never be able to say that!
"Do you have a black marker?" I had asked her. She unzipped a compartment in her laptop case and produced the requested item. I tore off a piece of cardboard from a box that had been sitting in the corner and readied the marker to write. "Ok. Say it again slowly, one syllable at a time," I instructed.
Joanna recited the words that I spelled out phonetically. Once she had finished, my make-shift cue card read, "Chee Moe Gow Prosheech Pinest Vat Sue Cow Oren Cow?" I had practiced the phrase over and over until I felt comfortable. Then, I taped it to the wall behind the laptop and readied myself for the task.
Now, I was wiping my sweaty palms against the thighs of my jeans as we anxiously awaited her father's arrival. Joanna grabbed one of my hands and held it.
After what felt like forever, Joanna's mother returned with her father. They sat down wearing serious and concerned expressions. I was expecting Joanna to set up the dialogue, but no one said anything. Her parents were staring at me.
"Chee Moe Gow Prosheech Pinest Vat Sue Cow Oren Cow?" I broke the silence by reading from the card that was hiding behind the camera. Joanna's mother widened her eyes and compressed her face with the palms of her hands. Her father betrayed no emotion. Neither of them blinked.
A long silence followed. Finally, Joanna's mother said something in Polish.
"My mother wants you to repeat it," Joanna translated.
I took a deep breath and wondered how foolish I was sounding in their language. "Chee Moe Gow Prosheech Pinest Vat Sue Cow Oren Cow?" I repeated.
"Jezus Maria! Asia! No super, ale nie wiem jak to!?! Może to nie wypada? Rany Boskie tak daleko jesteś i jak to sobie wybobrażasz? Jezus Maria ja się nie chcę wtrącać, ale... O Matko jedyna! Jezus Maria no cieszę się bardzo!!! Tylko jesteś tak daleko i nas tam nie ma! Jezuśku kochany, Asia no najważniejsze, żebyś ty była szczęśliwa! Jezus Maria, tylko tak daleko..." Joanna's mother kept rambling. Sometimes, she would clasp her hands together as if praying; other times, she would wring them as if she was nervous. Her father's stern expression never faltered; I felt as though he was drilling a hole into me even though he was halfway around the world.
When Joanna's father finally did speak, her mother stopped talking. He started speaking in Polish, and I knew that his words were meant for me. Sure enough, Joanna began to translate between sentence fragments.
"My father say that if you wish to marry me, you must be very serious. We take marriage in Poland very seriously. This is for life. If you don't mean it, then don't do it. You must honor me... and respect me... and protect me... but, most important, you must love me. If we get married, we are married for life. No exceptions. Are you prepared for that?"
I looked at her and nodded. The weight of her words, his words, felt tangible. I took her hand in mine and turned to face her father. I nodded slowly as our eyes met. For a brief moment, our expressions were mirrored. I had the strangest inclination that I understood how diplomats must feel if, through the course of negotiation, a war had been circumvented. And just as I was expecting her father to verbalize his consent, Joanna's mother stood and walked out of our view. I could feel Joanna shifting beside me, and I saw her father inquisitively corner his eyes as if he, too, was wondering what she might be up to.
She returned after a brief interval, carrying a brown-and-white spotted beagle in her arms. Its mouth appeared to be smiling as its tongue was casually panting. She sat down with the canine in her lap and said, rather sincerely, "Zapytaj Snupiego."
"She wants you to ask Snoopy, our dog," Joanna explained.
"Chee Moe Gow Prosheech Pinest Vat Sue Cow Oren Cow?" I repeated, daring to smile.
"Powtórz," she said as Snoopy's lazy eyes sympathetically assessed the jittery American on the monitor.
"Again." Joanna translated.
"Chee Moe Gow Prosheech Pinest Vat Sue Cow Oren Cow?" I was beginning to get the hang of this.
"Powtórz," she insisted again.
"Mamo!" Joanna scolded her mother.
"Co Asia?" her mother asked innocently.
Joanna's father finally resolved the dispute by raising his hands. He spoke to his daughter in Polish with a calm but sincere voice. Once he finished, Joanna turned to me and translated.
"He say that if I am happy then he is happy. If we are both sure about this, if we are both serious about this, then we have his blessing."
I turned to give Joanna a sober expression that she volleyed with a reassuring smile. Was that it? Were we engaged?
"Jezus Maria! No super, ale nie wiem jak to!?! Może to nie wypada? Rany Boskie! Jezus Maria ja się nie chcę wtrącać, ale... O Matko jedyna! Jezus Maria no cieszę się bardzo!!! Tylko to tak daleko i nas tam nie ma! Jezuśku kochany! Jezus Maria!" Joanna's mother was in a frenzy, and I had no idea if she was excited or distraught.
Joanna spoke to her mother in a calming tone which seemed to do the trick. Everyone was smiling at this point; I suspected that they were simply discussing the formalities which, of course, we still hadn't ironed out ourselves. Snoopy seemed impervious to the furor. Joanna's mother would occasionally pet him as he idled on her lap; the action seemed to calm her as much as him.
As Joanna continued discussing the news with her parents, I stood to retrieve the bottle of wine on the dresser. After the task of popping the cork and pouring a couple of glasses had been completed, I returned to Joanna's side where she was wrapping up the elated conversation. I handed my now-fiancé one of the wine-filled, plastic cups and tapped my drink to hers.
After she said her farewells and disconnected the call, I stole a kiss. Upon pulling away, she smiled and said, "my father say he is sending me something for our wedding."
"Our wedding..." I replied absently. "That's a subject worth discussing."
"Yes. When are we going to do this?"
"Well, I guess we need to do it as soon as possible. We have to make this legal," I replied, mentally grasping the chiseled concept.
We sat without speaking for a while. Had something fallen, we would have jumped half a foot from our seats.
"I am calling Wiola to tell her the news," Joanna declared.
"Sure. I think I'll call my brother and do the same," I returned.
As Joanna navigated her cell phone's menu to call her friend, I retrieved my own phone from the counter where I had left it sitting. I began to wonder how Shawn would react to the news as the line began to ring.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Hey man, you busy?" I began.
"No. What's up?"
"Well, I've got some news..." I paused for the dramatic effect.
"Ok, you've got my attention. What's up?" he emphasized.
"I just asked Joanna to marry me," I giddily recessed the epiphany with a break prepared to interrupt his next utterance. After a moment's silence, I continued regardless, "she said yes."
After a short lull, Shawn spoke. "Man, that's great! I'm really happy for you. But I guess that means you're moving out?"
"Yeah. I suppose so. Things didn't exactly go according to plan. I had planned on finding a place first, but she just got the news that she had to leave. Everything is accelerated now," I explained.
Shawn politely laughed. "Yeah, that's some mixed news on my end. Now, I need to find someone else to split the bills with me. I suppose you'll be staying at the hotel room?"
"Yeah, that was the plan initially; but, that's not an option anymore. She's losing the room now. Everything's moving so fast, but I was wondering if maybe she could stay with me at your house just long enough to find our own place. A month at the most?" I felt uncomfortable asking such a request, and I hadn't exactly thought this through.
"Yeah, man. A month is fine," Shawn agreed. "But, listen. I'm certainly not trying to burst your bubble or anything, but are you sure this is a good idea? I mean it's so fast. Isn't that what happened to your first marriage? I mean that you got married before you really got to know each other..."
"I know you're right, but we don't have the luxury of time. If we don't get married soon, she'll have to go back to Poland. Plus, she'll lose her work permit," I exposed.
"Duane, there has got to be a way. You can't jump into this so quickly. You could both end up really regretting it. For your own sake, explore every option. I'm sure there's some way to buy some time..."
I felt chafed, and I looked to Joanna for fortitude. By the look on her face, her conversation with Wiola was going as dismally caustic as mine was. I mean, I knew that Shawn was right; I knew that he was being sensible. But, he surely couldn't understand our time constraints or our passionate determination.
After Joanna and I had endured our respective conferences, we reconvened the wine drinking. I swallowed a rather large gulp before we traded the sobering affections of our confidants.
"Wiola say that we can't get married this quickly," Joanna surmised. She looked at me with a sympathetic frown as she punctuated the statement. "And she is right..."
I wanted to argue, to dispute her rationale with a cheer that love overcomes all. But I was too old for that nonsense. I was too wise for that elementary drivel.
I breathed deeply and gritted my teeth. If we had any hope, any real hope, we were going to need a better plan...
(to be continued...)
-- If you enjoy Parenting with Lightsabers, please like my page found here.
-- Also, try reading a Flashback episode like "Brookport".
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