Getting Settled in Albany

Language Lessons

When we decided to involve ourselves in US Missions, we didn't think we would have to learn a new language.   That wasn't totally true.

After leaving Western New York, we drove to the home of Perry and Lillian Newton in Albany. I had met them in Tomball, Texas some years prior to that time, but our friendship with Perry and Lillian really started that night, and it lasted until Perry and Lillian both went to be the Lord.  Perry enjoyed a career with Humble Oil and Refining (now known as Exxon) in Houston.   He was at the top of his earning potential and on the way up the corporate ladder, when he suddenly took early retirement and moved to Albany to work full time with the newly planted church.  He and Lillian would spend the rest of their lives in Albany.   We had no idea about where we might live, but the next day we looked at a duplex in the Albany suburb of Colonie.

Bob and Berniece Scott lived in the other end of the duplex.  We struck a deal with the owner, and moved in shortly thereafter.  The day after that I attended business meeting of the church. During the meeting Perry mentioned the fact that a poor lady in the church needed a new roof before the onset of winter.  He said that a lumber yard was offering a special price on roofing and suggested the church buy roofing for the house.  

He and I were selected to put on the roof.  Fortunately, Perry knew something about roofing. I didn’t.   The next morning, we went to the lumber yard to purchase the composition shingles and other supplies.   That’s when I realized I didn’t know how to speak the language.  I asked the sales clerk, “Do you have any nail sacks?”  He said “What?”  I said “nayal sacks?”  I had always thought there were two syllables in "nail."  He said, “What’s that.”  I said, “Well, it’s a thing you tie around your waist to put your nails in when you’re roofing a house.”   He said, “Oh, you mean a “nell” apron.”   Not only did the people sound funny, they had different names for things.  Women didn’t carry purses.  They carried pocketbooks.  You didn’t put your groceries in a sack; you put them in a “beg.” A stream of water was not a creek. It was a crick.  I even learned that my last name doesn’t have two syllables, even though I’m been known to pronounce it with three. New Yorkers needed only one.

Perry and I got our supplies and drove to the lady’s house.  She was in her eighties, but she ran a kennel.  Many of her dogs were in the house.  When she invited us to have lunch with her at noon time, we enjoyed it along with a couple of Irish Wolfhounds.  By the end of the day, Perry and I had the house about half roofed.   As we were driving home, Perry said, “You can write to your supporting elders and tell them you preached the gospel with a hammer in your hand today.”