The Trouble with French

Pictured - Kevin, Ben, and some guy we found along the roadside...

Gerald has now had three lessons in French and so far has had nothing terribly nice to say about this language. He was first sent into near depression after learning about the 16 vowel sounds which all sound exactly the same to him - most of which are pronounced by various mouth contortions resembling the act of puckering up. But what came next was worse. Why, he wonders now, don't you pronounce half the letters in French? Why put them there anyway? Last week the number "twenty" just about put him over the top. Spelled "vingt" and pronounced "va," it was just too much for him. "They used only one letter! What is the point of all the rest? It's impractical! It's wasteful!" I helpfully suggest that the extra letters are what make the French feel so sophisticated, romantic and superior. Gerald is unmoved.

While we were mulling over why our men don't like French, my friend Grace came up with a revelation. Men like everything to have a purpose and a function - so to come across a language which puts letters into words just for fun can drive a man crazy. Well, actually, there are phonetic rules, but the concept of having three letters for one sound just doesn't cut it for these guys.

Grace is right. Take, for example, our lovely new Moroccan dividing screen in the living room. Adding beauty and culture to the house, it just feels right. But not for Gerald. His life was fine before it arrived. "It has no purpose. It's just standing there. What exactly does it do? It's not even dividing anything!" When our friend Ben came over - another practical, analytical man -I introduced him to our new screen. "I love it, but Gerald does not . . ." and before I could even complete the sentence, Ben finished - ". . . because it's not functional." Period. That's it. Throw it out. Discussion over. So, longing for these men to see what they were missing, I grabbed a vine from a nearby plant and stuck it through the divider. "Now it's a plant trellis!" I announced. Both men sighed and said they supposed now it was O.K. At least it can stay.

Then there are the pillows on our bed. As Gerald flings them off every night, I can almost hear his eyes rolling. To match the pillows, there is a lovely cloth piece at the end of our bed. He cannot fathom this. Its only purpose is to match the pillows at the top which he doesn't understand anyway. "It's like a tie!" I say brilliantly. "Men wear ties all the time, but they serve no purpose whatsoever!" Then I realize - ties do have a purpose - to distinguish one man from the other billions of men dressed in identical suits around the world. Oh well, at least I tried.

Now where was I? Oh yes - French. Well, there's not much more to say except that I think I've proven my point as to why Gerald prefers the phonetic language of Arabic vs. French. As an old joke goes, I think we'll have to name our next pet something simple like "Phaideaux" (Fido). Don't you think Gerald will like that?