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THE
NATIONAL CITY BANK
of ROME
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COMPLETE BANKING SERVICE
800 SHORTER AVE
MEMBER F D. I t
BROAD ST. AT FIFTH AVE
tz
3LJ Co
\.ansom ^Tiorai company
J. WALTER RANSOM
5 East Fourth Avenue
ROME, GEORGIA
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Sume Nrnta-®ribitur
Over 55,000 Readers
Rome, Georgia
ROME
— COCA-COLA —
BOTTLING COMPANY
ROME, GEORGIA
Dennis Hodges Office Supply Co.
Rome’s Largest Office Supply and E '.uipment Store
(14-1 It! East First Avenue
Telephone: 232-2444
ROME, GEORGIA
This took me a whole morning
to memorize: Then, one day a
woman in my ward said: “I am
fed up with this bloody place.”
I thought to myself — “How
very apt. Women’s Hospital...
lots of blood . . . this really was
most descriptive.” Never will
I forget the look of horror on
the face of the saintly old lady
when I repeated these' words
to her on my next visit. But
how could I know that these
were swear-words, never to be
used in polite company!
Slowly and painfully, my ear
was getting attuned to the lan
guage as days went by .First,
I could pick out single words,
later on even a sentence here
and there. Speaking was more
difficult. I would say ‘slip’
when I meant sleep and ‘chair
man’ instead of German, ‘col
lar’ instead of colour and so
misunderstandings were fre
quent. Oh, the, agony, when you
are groping for words to ex
press even the most common
place things of everyday life.
Sometimes I died viith sheer
frustration.
After two or three weeks at
the hospital, I learned most of
the routine expressions used on
on the ward and could even
venture into a shop to buy a
pair of stockings or have my
shoes mended or get some writ
ing paper and a few stamps.
“You are German, aren’t
you?”, people would say to me
at that time. When they started
to ask me whether I was
French, I thought that I must
be improving and one day,
when somebody said: “Are you
Scottish?" I felt I have made
real progress. To all questions,
I could always answer most flu
ently: “I am a Jewish refugee
from Czechoslovakia.”
By then, the war was in full
swing and there were not
enough doctors in the country.
So, after two years at the fac
tory bench, my husband was
suddenly moved to a medical
iob in Leicester — a town in
the heart of England
No longer preoccupied with
the bare necessities of life. I
started to read. Newspapers
and women’s magazines I used
to plough through slowly and
creakily at the hospital with
the help of my dictionary, but
now I attempted 'books —
mostly light stuff — recom
mended by friends or picked
up at random at the library.
Then I becamestudent at
evening classes run by Lei
cester University. Here, a
whole new world was unfold
ed to me. Lectures, guided
reading and discussions
brough me in touch not only
with such old friends as Dic
kens, Kipling, Wells, Gals
worthy, Conrad or others
whom I had read in transla
tions but also with many other
writers of whom I knew but
little.
By and by I became aware
of the texture of the English
language, its music and
rhythm, its pliability — the
immense possibilities with
which a sentence can be turn
ed this way and that and
words woven' into patterns of
infinite variety and colour.
The phrases I fell in love
with you now, were vastly
different from those I mem
orized in my early days at the
hospital. For instance, from
D. H. Lawrence —
“Swallows with pools of
dark thread sewing the sha
dows together”, or from James
Joyce — “A day of dappled
seaborne clouds . . .”
I read on and on, book after
book, I was drunk with words.
I felt like a parched man dis
covering a spring after a long,
long trek in the desert. Bu'
the more I drank, the more I
thirsted.
And then I started to write.
Slowly, timidly at first, like
a child trying out its legs, then
more daring and finally tak
ing wing.
And even though I may ne
ver reach great heights, I con
sider myself doubly blessed
every time my name appears
in print and I remember that
wordless refugee of 26 years
ago.
I still often grope for the
right word: when trying to
arrest a moment in flight —
or an intangible feeling — or
a smile, a scent, a piece of
music, a special king of joy
or a special kind of grief.
But it is a different kind
of groping from my early
days. No longer am I tryin°
to translate from my native
language into a foreign ton
gue. For English has become
my language now. In it I feel
and in it H dream and in it
I have found fulfillment.
LEVINSON BROS., Inc.
Packers of Beef Products
Phone 232-1563—232-1564
Rome, Georgia
The Southern Israelite
55