Translation

Pretty much everybody needs a little help deconstructing texts. It could be argued that the point of college is to learn how to read and understand Chaucer, Milton, Pope, and Shakespeare. Of course non-English majors learn how to understand different authors and ideas–Machiavelli for economics majors, Watson and Crick for biochemistry students. My favorite professor at the University of Wisconsin–Richard Knowles–spent a semester helping me to understand–among others–these lines from “Hamlet.”

“O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter”

means that Hamlet is depressed but won’t commit suicide because he believes that God forbids it.

Professor Knowles spent the better part of dozens of lectures teaching us how to translate early 17th century language and culture into words, ideas, and references we could understand and accept. What a decent, hard working, wonderful professor he was. What a great course–a full semester or reading and talking about the plays of Shakespeare.

A generation later, one of the most successful college students I know is taking a course called “Epistomology and Phenomonogy.” (No, I don’t know what either of those words means either.) She reads the primary sources–Kierkegaard, among others–listens to lectures, and reads Spark Notes to make sure she understands the difference between “noesis” (real content) and “noema” (ideal content.) (And no, I don’t actually understand those words either. How many times do I have to tell you?)

In keeping with this proud tradition of translating text into terms that can be understood in modern times, here’s one of my favorite passages from Thorton Wilder’s 1938 “Our Town,” an “allegorical representation of all life” according to one critic. I’ll parse out the paragraph in a minute but won’t deny my gracious readers full access to one of the most moving dialogues of 20th century drama. The only “back story” you need is that Dr. Gibbs is speaking to his 16 year-old son.

“Well, George, while I was in my office today I heard a funny sound… and what do you think it was? It was your mother chopping wood. There you see your mother–getting up early; cooking meals all day long; washing and ironing;–and still she has to go out in the back yard and chop wood. I suppose she just got tired of asking you. She just gave up and decided it was easier to do it herself… Well, I knew all I had to do was call your attention to it. Here’s a handkerchief, son.”

Now here are the explications, the translations if you will, to a culture a hundred years after the time about which Thorton Wilder was referencing.

“Well, George”

These two words refer to a time in which parents spoke to their children in respectful tones on a daily basis. Dr. Gibbs is addressing his son in a familiar way.

“…chopping wood…”

references a time in the history of our country when children were expected to do chores and make a contribution to the well being of the household.

“Here’s a handkerchief, son”

alludes to a time when children were exposed to guilt and shame is small, appropriate, healthy doses. Their behavior as well as their sense of self improved as a result. George is crying.

But he’ll get over it.

***

Without sarcasm or irony, here are the points of my gentle diatribe this week:

* We no longer live in the safe, protected world of Grover’s Corners where the biggest family issues were whether a junior in high school would play baseball with his friends before fulfilling his commitments to his family.

* Although our 16 year-old children are under siege, attacked by sugary soft drinks and vodka, blind sided by tobacco and marijuana, it is still possible to bring up healthy kids.

* “No” is still a powerful concept in raising healthy kids. The translation of “Give me a hand with chopping this wood” is simple: There’s no better way to say “I love you” than to allow your children to help the family, to feel good about making a contribution, to be part of something bigger than themselves.