Hiraeth

My friends whose native language is other than English, tell me that the
language of England, which is also spoken in many other countries, is a rich and diverse language. By that, it is assumed that the English language has a term or an expression to fit almost any of mankind’s needs. While the compliment is much appreciated, it seems to me as a sometimes speaker of English, that other languages must have much to recommend them, particularly in the preliminaries to love making. It goes without saying that my foreign language credentials are pretty thin on this subject, with my information coming largely, if not exclusively, from watching telecasts of Spanish speaking programs.
When scanning the TV dial in an attempt to find non-political commentary, Spanish programs seem to me to be super heated affairs. When two performers dance the tango, for example, it seems inevitable for one of the performers to ask the other one, “Mi casa. O Su casa?”
(My house or your house?) The English do not dance the tango. Any intrusion of English language in such a situation would be out of place unless it were to cite the decline in gross domestic products for the second quarter. But the growth or decline of the GDP would not be an appropriate subject for love making, except among economists. There is no record, public or otherwise, of economists or statisticians ever engaging in amorous activities.
In Italian opera, there are hundreds of arias where a tenor or a soprano declares that life is not worth living if their emotional needs are not immediately fulfilled. English has no word or phrase to match the fervor of people who sing Italian opera. When the climax to an aria is reached, an Italian opera singer may kill himself. An English speaker might more likely repeat the latest football (soccer) scores. Perhaps the Latins have fire in their blood when English speakers have only tepid ice water.
All of this is a preliminary to a word that appears to have a significant place in the language of Wales, but receives nothing more than a minimum of emotion in English. The Welsh word is “Hiraeth.” The “ae” letters are, of course, a diphthong, and are pronounced as an English “i.” So the word is pronounced as HEAR’-I-TH.
Hiraeth is a longing for things associated with home. It is a longing for the family and the friends at home. It is a longing for the towns and schools of one’s youth. In other words, hiraeth is a longing for everything associated with home. English dictionaries define the word simply as a “longing.” But that absolutely misses the mark. It would be like saying Mother is defined as a close relative whom we have known since childhood.
Wales, Scotland, Ireland and the Bretons in Brittany are the Celtic nations of the world. The Bretons speak French because they live in a French society. The other three Celtic nations speak English because it has been their obligation to do so for hundreds of years. But those three Celtic nations kept their original tongues intact. In my estimation, the Welsh choirs, which have world wide recognition, sing their finest works in the original language of Wales. To non-Welsh speakers, the spelling of Welsh words is a formidable challenge, but the choirs of Wales make them sing in grand harmony.
And so the reader may assume that this is a campaign to have the spirit of hiraeth occupy a place of honor in the English language. Everyone knows it will be an uphill battle all the way, but before more people become angels, it would be nice to know that hiraeth has as much meaning in English as it now does in Wales. It may be a long time coming, but it is worth a vigorous try. A good place to start this introduction would be among the American soldiers in Iraq. Ah, but the trend for the time being is not a favorable one. Right now we seem to like macho words like kill ratios and that sort of thing. Maybe in time, hiraeth will be found in English conversations.

Why Don’t the English Sing?

When the word “hiraeth” is mentioned, thoughts automatically turn to Wales and its many choirs and soloists. At the same time, there are thoughts about Irish singers as far back as John McCormack. And the Scots are good singers. The same could be said for the French, the Scandanavians, the Germans, the Italians, the Spanish, the Polish and the Russians. In short, just about everyone on the European continent sings except the Brits. If they sing, it must be quietly to themselves.
Obviously, singing is not unknown in England, but it certainly does not occupy a place of honor as it does in Wales, in Ireland, in Italy, in Russia or dozens of other countries. Most armies sing even if it is a dirty ditty or a spoof of the generals. But in my time with His Majesty’s forces in World War II, there appeared no song to match the German melody of “Lili Marlene.” That song was taken over by Allied Armies and given English lyrics. Later arrivals did not know of the “Lili Marlene’s” Germanic birth.
At army funerals, the British often have a band that plays “The Last Post” and “The Flowers of the Forest.” Those are moving melodies but they seem reserved for military funerals. Singing the words without band accompaniment would seem be out of place.
Even the Russians with their penchant for secrecy have magnificent choirs. The Latin nations are singers as are the Celtic nations. But the English go their own way without much reference to singing in a group.
My observations about the Brits are never to be construed as a criticism. It is a matter of curiosity. The Brits are good soldiers, but lousy administrators of a governed country as in the case of the United States or British West Africa where the natives were required to address Englishmen as “Master.” Well, it is pretty clear that we can’t have everything. If they sang, they might appear more human to the average observer. May it be suggested that the Brits ought to sing about fox hunting or polo playing to make them appear to be just like other common folks.

Piling On – A Reprise

Earlier in the summer, an essay produced here had to do with a person afflicted with one disease being found to have a second or third ailment beyond the original setback. This is called “piling on” as every schoolchild knows.
All of this is brought again to mind as a result of the recent Florida hurricanes. When a man has his house largely torn down by the storm, he may have no means of refrigerating the insulin for his diabetes. When an elderly couple finds their roof blown off and they receive a grossly inflated bid to replace it, one understands that a heart attack may be the rest of the story in piling on.
In the 1930’s, throughout the American Midwest and Southwest, there was widespread drought. The lack of moisture was so great that a widespread section of the country was called “The Dust Bowl.” So we had a cruel depression which was accompanied by a “Dust Bowl.” That, my friends, is nothing other than piling on.
It has been a source of great pleasure for me to learn that the doctrine of piling on has a historical context. When questions arise having to do with the Jewish faith, it has been a great comfort to me to be able to consult with a matriarch of that religion. My consultant is our neighbor, Frances Licht, who explains the Jewish point of view without proselytizing or evangelizing or patronizing. So Mrs. Licht has all my business when it comes to questions about the Jewish faith.
When Mrs. Licht read the earlier essay about piling on, she offered the thought that piling on was known to Jews who used the term
“ala Kletzma” to identify it. If the idea of ala kletzma was familiar to Jews, it is likely that it may be a doctrine that has been around for perhaps 2500 years. My favorite Jewish philosopher is Micah, who advises us to do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly. Micah lived 2800 years ago, so there is a strong chance that ala kletzma was known to Jews for at least that length of time. It must be clear that the doctrine of piling on has a historical context measured not in years but in centuries. And it applies to Jews, Christians, Hindus, Moslems as well as to Christian Scientists.

When It Rains It Pours

Closely allied to the idea of piling on, is the thought that when it rains, it never seems to stop. It could also be observed that when the rains go away, drought often follows. Lawyers would say, “in the instant case,” we are being forced to deal with rain of epic proportions. New Jersey has had a wet Spring and Summer, which in no way is comparable to the hurricanes that have tormented Florida. But the weather around here has been wet for some time.
The United States wastes enormous sums on such things as tobacco supports and the billions of dollars invested in the Iraq war. In this country, there are always sections of the country that are dealing with a surplus of rainfall. At the same time, there are other parts of the country always afflicted with drought and wildfires.
It always seemed to me that if the rainfall and the water on the ground were taken to drought stricken areas, we may solve two urgent problems at once.
No one has ever successfully accused me of being a hydraulics engineer, but it seems to me that the waste of funds by the United States Government could be used to ameliorate the effects of drought in many parts of the country. In the past month, the East Coast has had water measured by the foot dumped on it. The water doesn’t run into an old fashioned cistern where it might be used again. That water simply runs away to the sea when it is urgently needed elsewhere in the country.
Of course, it would take an enormous investment to build cisterns, pumps and pipes to move the water from an inundated area to one stricken by drought. Granted, making that investment in cisterns, pumps and pipes is a much better investment for the American people than it is to squirt it away on tobacco subsidies, for example, and on rebuilding countries that have been torn apart by our military. Let’s do something worthwhile for a change.

Home

It seems to me from serving an Army enlistment and from all the news accounts in newspapers, news weeklies and television broadcasts, that soldiers always have home on their minds. It makes no difference whether it is a volunteer army or a drafted army. Women and men think about home. When they lived there, home may have been a place that potential soldiers couldn’t wait to leave. Ah, but once in the Army, home now becomes a place of great interest and influence.
As far back as 62 years ago when my enlistment was served, soldiers had three priorities. First was to finish off the enemy. Second was to get out of this miserable army. And third, was to GO HOME.
Inevitably, soldiers want to GO HOME. Looking back, it is clear that memories of home were exaggerated. The girl friend left behind became a pin-up goddess. The parents were strong Americans. The old job would pay $100 per week when a man came home. Many of these thoughts were completely illusory. Many were the products of imagination run wild. One of my barracks mates had a young wife who became more alluring as he talked about her. By the time he went home, it is my suspicion that, in person, she was not really the sex siren our friend had thought so much about.
The desire to leave the Army and go home could be found in Ted Werre, a Dakota wheat farmer. They could be found in Ralph Tuttle, a wise-cracking Chicago truck driver. There was one immensely likable fellow from Harlem whose name has always escaped me. He and his family were Jewish and had always lived in Harlem – and he wanted to go home to eat the ethnic foods that New York provides. Steve Thorin wanted to go back to Wisconsin to eat the smelt that cavorted in those rivers. And Werner Fredli, an older fellow who loved classical music, wanted to return to Chicago to hear the Chicago Symphony.
As long as there are wars, young men and women will answer the call to adventure. In many cases, the call to adventure results in their deaths. In other cases, particularly in small rural towns, young men join the Army “to get away from this town where nothing ever happens.”
But no matter how you cut it, once a man puts on the uniform, he will soon be talking about home. There is an inevitability about wearing a uniform and talking about going home. This phenomenon has been going on, in my case, for more than 62 years. Today when soldiers are interviewed in Afghanistan or Iraq, they talk about home. Well, all things being equal, the idea of going home, however humble, is probably the best moral booster military service has to offer.
——-
And so for the time being, this completes the thoughts that occur while my face is being shaved. They are not monumental earth-stopping thoughts at all. They are as advertised, which are thoughts that float through my mind when it is temporarily unoccupied by other considerations.
Perhaps when some new thoughts occur sometime in the future, they will be recorded in a following commentary. And so it is now possible to resume my shaving with no burdensome ideas on this ancient mind.
A final thought. On Sunday, August first, Homeland Secretary Tom Ridge announced with great fanfare that we were in danger of being wiped out starting with the financial districts in New York and New Jersey. That was six weeks ago and it will give us something to think about while shaving. It is very difficult to keep ones legs crossed for that length of time. Do you think Tom Ridge is going to say – belatedly – that announcement was an April Fools joke delivered five months late?
E. E. CARR
September 9, 2004
P.S. from Judy: It is unknown to the author’s wife how so many thoughts could have been collected, since shaving by the retired Ed Carr appears to be an irregular event.
—
I do remember that Pop quite enjoyed shaving his own head with decent regularity in later years; he’d just run the electric razor around and around it.
This essay series reminds me of another essay called “Whiskers” which I always remember as being one of his oldest essays (despite the fact that it was written in 2007) because it was one of the few that I read shortly after it was actually published. In any event, it would be remiss to not link to the Whiskers essay to conclude the ‘Thoughts that Occur While Shaving’ series.
Perhaps most importantly of all, Pop seems to have answered his own question years before he asked it. In 2007, he wrote: “It is at this point that I must ask, why do men have whiskers?”
Based on these essays, I would posit this answer: “To give them time to think.”