RELATIONSHIPS February 12, 2007 Issue

'ICH HEIBE MARTA!'

DAVID HORN

SHE COULDN'T HAVE BEEN older than seven. Her flaxen hair danced in the breeze as she clung with both fists to the safety bar of the children's carousel.

It's decades ago now, but I can still feel the friendly, secure atmosphere of that family campground where friends and I were visiting. And I can still see the youngsters in the play area as they asked me to spin the merry-go-round for them. Most riders shrieked with glee as I turned them faster and faster. But the little girl with flaxen hair said nothing. She didn't smile or laugh, and to me she appeared lonely.

During a brief pause to change riders, a man who I later learned was the girl's dad approached and spoke to her in German. Apparently she didn't understand English. The next time the carousel stopped, I made sure she was right in front of me. Leaning down, I asked, "Wie heißt du?" (What is your name?) She turned with surprise and said, "Ich heißt Marta!" (My name is Marta!). For the rest of the ride, as she spun round and round, she kept looking my way and grinning. Was it because we spoke the same language, I wondered.

Send a comment to the editors

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

SENTINEL WATCH

OUR DAUGHTERS AND THE CULTURE THEY LIVE IN