Gabby or Purple

I met someone the other day whose name I understood to be Harry Krishna. I attempted a joke by inquiring if we had perhaps met one another in an airport. My smile disappeared when I saw his reaction and realized the temperature in the room had dropped dramatically.

He explained his last name was Kirchner, thus obviating my humorously intentioned bon mot and we were left with an awkward silence and the realization there was no way we could ever go shoe shopping again, or for the first time.

I don't why I just thought about that or remembered from Germany, in another life, stalking the crafty and ubiquitous veal fig newton. When Sigrid and I were dating, I'd share the couch as we watched programs on German TV (either first, ARD, or second, ZDF, as there was very little else-back in the days of ein geteiltes Deutschland).

Prime time TV back in the day had, for me as an American, a curiosity, hostesses or viewer guides, who offered you a minute's worth of preview and highlights of the night's coming attractions before the schedule kicked off. At that time I spoke just about no German at all; and have been constant and consistent for nearly the last four decades.

But back then I'd just sit there and let it wash over me and the mind being the way it is, or at least mine being the way it is, I would manufacture meaning from the verbal churn and hear what, to my ears were English language words and phrases, even if no one else did. Hence, the veal fig newtons.

The TV hostess, having offered us, the lieber zushauer, a preview of the evening's broadcast would always close with some variation of 'wir wunschen ihnen ein veal fig newton' (we wish you a veal fig newton). On Saturdays, long or short (a topic for another time), when Sigrid would go grocery shopping, I would tag along and prowl the aisles, trolling among the cookies and snack cakes, or keks, in search of the wily fig newton.

I had no idea what the packaging might be and knew from popping into the commissary (the military's grocery store as opposed to The Exchange which was sort of like Sears) that the Fig Newton folks had introduced strawberry and apple flavors, but to my knowledge, no veal.

My searches among the lebensmittel were never crowned by success and eventually, somewhat in despair, I asked Sigrid where Germans could buy veal fig newtons. Her look, come to think of it, was very similar to Harry's of the other day, as she explained to me that what I took to be an exhortation to enjoy a snack cookie was actually, 'wir wunschen ihnen viel vergnügen' (we wish you much pleasure).

Oh. Well why didn't they just say so? I was Saint George's stunt double in Jousting with the Mondegreen and hadn't realized it. And while I've always enjoyed the Sky Marshall, I liked him even more once he stopped lip locking with that guy who looked nothing like that fellow who wasn't from the airport.

Though him I can describe: Red and white sweater, hand in hand with Carmen San Diego, sharing some fig newtons. Eww.
-bill kenny