Why are siblings so mean? Why such perfectionists? Why can’t my slightly older sister allow me to wallow in variations of my own distortions?

Let me explain:

Last week my column covered the pluralizing of surnames, pointing out that many people believe all they need to do is insert an apostrophe before an “s” and the job is done. Accordingly, it’s proper to report that the Trujillos (no apostrophe) took a day trip last week to Mountainair and Gran Quivira Monument.

At church the next day, a parishioner passed me a note that read: “I hope you Trujillo’s has a good time at Gran Quivira.” After all my pontification on how an apostrophe generally indicates possession rather than number, someone inserts an apostrophe in our name. Was she rubbing it in, defying us?

But back to my older sibling, who shall remain anonymous, except for her initials, which are Maria Dorotea Trujillo Maestas. Before the ink had dried she was on the horn explaining to me that while I was partially correct, in Spanish, we would do it a bit differently. Spanish doesn’t add apostrophes to names. And plurals differ as well.

“Haven’t you ever heard how in Spanish we don’t pluralize the last name?” she asked. The example she gave was her own surname. If I were to have referred to her and her late husband Joe, I would have said “the Maestases.”

But when we put the Spanish article, “los” in front of it, it becomes simply “Los Maestas.”

Because her grounding in the Spanish language is much more vast than mine (she studied language and literature in graduate school and through foreign travel, while I picked it up off the street among my carnales), I agree that constructions like “Los Aragon” and “Los Pino” would be correct on a house sign. I failed to distinguish between whether the context called for “the” or “los.”

So my kid sibling is right. But she still reminds me of Dad, who never let a grammatical error in Spanish go unpunished. Tito Chavez, who has taught in both local school systems, said he’s always
been vexed over the way people’s house signs read something like “Smith’s” and “Chavez’s.” The retired teacher said, “When I see signs like those, I always want to ask, ‘What exactly is owned by those people?’”

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Because “munch” is easier for many of us to pronounce than “much,” an important part of our language acquisition was flawed. At Immaculate Conception School, we once had a lay teacher fill in for Sister Mary Sternutire, who had been teaching a unit on Spain. The sub, who said he’d been to Spain but whose geographical limits didn’t go beyond Buena Vista, insisted that if we ever traveled to Spain, we’d be expected to render “muchas gracias” as “munchas,” regardless of its spelling.

Gullible and tractable fifth-graders that we were, some of us soon began using the word as prescribed, and even correcting others who dared utter the word correctly. In our quest to educate the world on this tiny fraction of the Spanish glossary, we met with some success, much indifference, much giving of incredulous looks, and much derision from Dad, who I then believed had invented the Spanish language. I munched on that idea for a long time. Does it ever happen that you learn something incorrect — and so thoroughly — that it takes a lifetime to correct it?

•••

This goes under the heading of “I don’t know music, but I know what I like,” even though I hope to know more about music Friday when I begin piano lessons with Fred Salas. Can Fred teach me enough about music so I qualify to give the following opinion?

For years I’ve tried to follow the career path of Solveig Olsen, a 1994 graduate of Robertson High School. She’s pursuing a career in opera and has acquired considerable experience. As she says, she has “been in the ‘professional’ world of opera since 2001.” She’s acquired music degrees from the University of Iowa and Indiana University, has spent five years in Chicago, currently lives in New York, and has studied and performed in Italy.

Solveig spent one summer at the Aspen Music Festival in Colorado and two summers at the Brevard Music Festival in North Carolina. Last September, she sang Musetta in Puccini’s opera La Boheme, with the Brooklyn Opera Theater. Then she was the soprano soloist in Dvorak’s Te Deum, and Mozart’s Requiem. And earlier this year she sang Juliet in Romeo and Juliet with the Brooklyn Opera Theater.

Once I saw her perform at Ilfeld Auditorium, and twice I’ve had the same pleasure when she traveled to Austin, Texas, and Denver, respectively, to sing at the weddings of her friends, Rachel and Sara Kruse, of Wagon Mound.

We read a lot in the local press about youths who have gone on to admirable
athletic careers and other pursuits.

It’s more rare to read about people on their way to success in opera. Solveig, the daughter of Michael and Patti Olsen, who retired from Highlands and Memorial Middle School in 2002, before moving to Colorado Springs, is making her parents — and a whole lot of other admirers — quite proud. Expect to learn more about this young woman. As they say, it’s not over until the svelte lady sings.