The Universal Language

Last night we were flipping through some pictures from a trip to Sweden that we took with the girls when Emma was eight and Sarah was four. Peter’s father grew up in Sweden and we have a lot of family there. We especially wanted Emma and Sarah to meet their Swedish great grandmother, Jane, one of two Janes who had inspired Emma’s middle name. But the girls also got to meet great aunts and uncles and lots of second cousins and cousins once removed.

We stayed just outside Stockholm at the house of one of Peter’s cousins. His cousin and his wife also had two girls, one who was a year or so younger than Emma and another who was Sarah’s age. The oldest of the two girls, Louise, was beginning to take English in school, but at the time, really only had command of some random English vocabulary. The younger daughter, Eleanor, spoke no English at all and neither of our girls spoke any Swedish. This did not hamper their friendship, however. The four girls got on like a house on fire from the very first time they met. They watched Pippi Longstocking episodes in Swedish on television and our girls laughed along like they understood every word. They would also play elaborate made up games and, somehow, everyone seemed to understand the object and rules of these games.

I remember the first evening that the girls met each other.  By the time dinner ended the girls were already at ease with one another and began playing. The four parents sat in the living room marveling at how easily they seemed to be able to communicate despite the lack of a shared language. They were playing a game of their own invention that seemed to require that you shout out colors in Swedish. Emma and Sarah easily picked up on these words and were playing right along. Then they moved on to a game that involved some racing about the room.  Since most of the game was being conducted in Swedish, Peter and I were at a real loss to figure out what they were doing. Just before they would race off, Louise seemed to be saying something like ready, set, go. I asked Peter’s cousin, Gabriel, for a translation. “What is Louise saying? It has the rhythm of ready, set, go.” “ I have no idea what she’s saying,” Gabriel replied. “It’s not Swedish. I think she thinks she’s speaking English.”

I’ve always thought the world would be a better place if we could all be a little more like those four children were right then - if our hearts were so open, that different languages, different cultures, different faiths, different orientations didn’t present barriers to understanding; if our only criteria for friendship was the willingness to play along.

I’m proud to say that Emma never outgrew that most precious childlike quality. She never adopted that typical teen self-consciousness and she was the most open-hearted person I have ever known. I know that it was not always easy to go through life that way. It can be hard to live in a world filled with judgment and rejection when you have not built walls to protect your fragile heart.

Which brings me back to the scene of those four young cousins playing together for the first time in a language of their own creation. What made that gathering work so miraculously well was that they all embraced each other with their hearts wide open.

It’s something to think about.