$55,000 to the Swear Jar

Bridling the tongue, which reflects the heart

“Is that a bad word? In Danish?”

“Jesus knows, Carol. Jesus knows.” says Sienna with a solemnity only a ten year old can muster when she knows she has the moral high ground.

Her look of shock and pity cuts my heart.

It IS important to tame the tongue - and G-d gifted me with an ability to express myself in other languages.

“Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!” the book of James 3:5

In proximal Ionic Greek, according to Strong's: “μεγαλαυχεί ιδού ολίγον Πυρ ηλίκην Ύλην ανάπτει”

I’ve sprog ører, language ears (Danish), so I’ve several ways to express myself.

You think, reader, you could resist her admonitions? I doubt it. Exhibit A:

Sienna doesn’t use swear words even when she sings Hamilton musical lyrics.

I was stricken. I’m the adult! What kind of example am I for her?

She suggests a swear jar. I agree. Admit the mistake. Apologize. Move on.

That’s the example I want to set for her - adults make mistakes. Grown-ups correct them.

At first my fine was $0.25.

Money fines work because I could not stop slipping up and I am a true Scottish-Irish American, frugal to my core (think pinching pennies in a vise) — and did not want to pay any monies.

It became $0.50, $1.00, $2.00 and then I began writing paper I Owe You’s (IOU’s).

Eight years later I am pretty sure I owe $55,000 + to the swear jar.

My former art teacher of Båring Folkejøjskole in Båring, Danmark used to say, Det er svært at være vred på Dansk;” or, it’s difficult to be angry in Danish.

True.

Everyone is degligt and slappe af i Danmark — happy and relaxed in Denmark.

Word on the literary street? J.R.R. Tolkein’s hobbits are based on the Danes.

And yet…and yet…

The Danish bandeordene (bad words in Danish) were hard to break.

Just like the few I learned in Deutsche and Français as a kid were especially tough to break - Sch*iße and ma*rd.

I had learned Danish bad words on a farm in Western Jylland (Jutland) from a ten year old farm boy - who NEVER told me they were bad words - or how terrible they were.

I got to my Danish folkehøjskole and said “for helv*de og for f*n” all day long every day — to the consternation of my roommate Vibeke whose Royal Navy officer father worked for the King and Queen.

It was not until I stood in front of my entire Båring folkehøjskole for morning fordrag (lecture) I learned how many bad Danish words I was using:

“Hvad der skete i weekenden,” (What happened this weekend) became in my still-new Danish: Hvad skidt i weekenden or “What sh*t happened this weekend?”

To which my fellow Danish student colleagues responded, in amusement, in the usual drille pind (teasing manner) said, “Hvad sagde du?”

They asked me to repeat myself - and I did, again and again, very very very slowly and loudly, “Hvad sk*dt in weekenden? Whaat sh*t happened?

The whole room of Danes laughed uproariously again and again.

Very quietly, Vibeke leaned forward and explained that I was saying very words again and again quite loudly to our Danish schoolmates.

I sat down beet red and dutifully humbled- total mortification of the Amerikaner.

Sienna comes from a long line of ladies who do not use bad words to express their anger - neither she, nor mother nor grandmother, who grew up working class, use bad words.

Impressive.

Me? I had had nannies, a maid - every dance and sports lesson: ballet, jazz, tap, tennis - and I had even attended charm school.

As well, I traveled the world, got corporate stock for Christmas - and I used bad words all the time.

Who is the proper lady?

Not only did I use bad words in English, but also German, Danish, French.

By the time I was working as Sienna’s Catholic Mary Poppins nanny, I had given up the usual bad words in English.

Yet, steadfastly with the dog Thor, trained in Danish, a bit of Spanish, and some French - I let bad words fly when he didn’t listen as we walked.

I’ve gotten better.

Prayers in Latin help enormously - and lots of holy hours that foster contemplation and a full reliance on God.

What also works is the memory that a now very grown and sophisticated and elegant 17 year old Hoosier girl is very disappointed in me when I

- who’ve had every advantage - cannot control my tongue…because

“Jesus knows, Carol…Jesus knows.”