Drumroll please!

 Today is "National German American Day.''  Since, on my father's side my heritage is 99.9 percent German, and on my mother's side, 85 percent (with a little Scots-Irish and French thrown in) I feel I can legitimately celebrate this holiday.  Sadly, I don't have a bit of sauerkraut in the house.  Mashed potatoes with some hot sauerkraut and a bit of sausage on top is truly a delicious dish.  My church in the town where I grew up, Lutheran of course, was still holding some services in German as late as the mid fifties.  My grandfather, my mother's father, worked in the coal mines of Pennsylvania until he earned enough to go to seminary.  He became a minister and his first call was to a German speaking community in the hills of Pennsylvania.  Since he had grown up speaking German as well as English, he didn't anticipate a problem.  Until he arrived in the small community and discovered that everyone there spoke Low German, while he spoke only High German.  When I was told this story as I child I really didn't comprehend the problem.  But I suspect the difference is like the difference between the English spoken in England and the English spoken in Glasgow, Scotland.  Probably other parts of Scotland also.  Our bus driver on a tour of Scotland, a lovely young man named Kevin, was from Glasgow.  I have been speaking English all my life, and get along just fine in most English speaking countries, but when Kevin talked to me I could only understand about one in ten words.  During one conversation, I had to ask him to write things down.  He was telling me about some really good BBC television shows I should be sure to watch.  I asked him to write the titles so I could remember them.  It was really because I had no idea what he was saying.  Evidently my grandfather was able to overcome the language barrier because he stayed in that small community for some years, long enough to meet and marry my grandmother.