They’ve already left Yanostan

Possibly the most confusing and complicated verb form in the English language is, paradoxically, also about the shortest: to be.

In many languages — not just in English — the different forms of the word seem to defy logic. You start with “be,” but you can’t change the tense of it by saying or writing “beed”; no, instead many forms of the word branch out: am, was, were, been, being. To most English speakers, the various permutations come naturally, but in other languages, such as Spanish, the issue seems much more difficult.

Take for example the first words one learns when picking up a different language, that is, words other than the curse words, which apparently we always learn early. The Spanish verb forms are “ser” and “estar,” both meaning “to be,” but that’s just the beginning.

Spanish learners often struggle with “ser” and “estar” because they need to decide quickly whether they’re referring to a condition or an essential quality.

Without turning this into Spanish 101, let me merely explain that “the apple is green” in English can mean it’s either not yet ripe, or the apple’s natural color is green. In Spanish, “la manzana es verde” refers to its essential quality; “la manzana está verde” means it needs a few more days on the tree before ripening.

Similarly, in Spanish, “está malo” means the person is sick, but “es malo” describes a mean person, like an Oakland Raider hater.

I decided to have some multi-lingual fun with a map given me by a friend and former foreign-exchange student, Pedro Carriço, who came from Portugal to study at Robertson High School a couple of years ago. At the time, we were much closer to 9-11 and obsessed with trying to locate the Taliban.

Notice that maps of the Middle East have cities and countries, such as Pakistan, Kyrgyzstan and Afghanistan. Now, by sheer coincidence, many Spanish speakers around here elide the first syllable of the Spanish to-be verb and instead of saying “están” for the third-person plural, simply say “stan,” making it rhyme with “Juan.”

Now, follow me on this map which Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld ought to have used to locate the Taliban. In the northwest part of this faux-Iraqi map, roughly where our Washington State would be, is a place called “Yanostan.” (Ya no están. They are no longer here.) The map contains about a dozen areas, all ending in -stan, which refer to location.

There’s Adondestan, which asks, Where are they?; Tampocostan means they’re not here either; Aquinostan says they are not in this place; Talvesestan hints that maybe the Taliban is here; Allastan means the Taliban is over there but not here; and finally, in the center of the map is a country called Aquisistan: yes, they’re here.

Here are some sites for you to identify: Tuertostan, Apestan, Panzonestan.

Now wasn’t that simple? The map contains a slightly off-color listing of smaller places whose connotations are to body parts, not really suitable for a family newspaper

Oh, but you insist? Well, I guess we can divulge one such location: Sinnalgastan. But if that location is also a description of the Taliban unit there, well, they will have become the butt of the joke. But we need to put that behind us.

• • •

Occasionally, sportscasters toy with team names. If they’re not up to snuff, the New Orleans Saints might get called the Ain’ts; the Rams become the Lambs and the Tennessee Titans get christened the Frightens.

But how does one account for calling the Jacksonville Jaguars the Jagwires? There’s nothing wiry about those Floridians, and if there were, what possible bit of wit can be discerned by calling them that?

One sportscaster on ESPN kept calling the team the Jagwires until a boss must have told him to stop. But now, on radio, we hear the Santa Fe Capital Jaguars being called the Jagwires. So entrenched is this mangled nickname that we seldom even hear the true name.

There is a difference. Sure, it might be fun to play with people’s and team’s names, something we did as youngsters, but there’s also a compelling need to call teams what they are: the Jaguars (Jag Wars).

And on local radio we also hear about the “athaletic” programs at East and West. There is only one “a” in “athletic”; ask any athalete.

• • •

A number of years ago, I was the lone member of the Highlands Courtesy Committee. My job was to secure donations from faculty to buy cards, flowers, bus or train tickets when fellow faculty needed a boost.

It’s difficult to track down 130 faculty members and ask for a donation of $5 or $10. One colleague, new to the university, was able to shake money out of his 30-some fellow professors, and he showed up with $190, which he collected by himself.

That certainly lightened my workload. And the man did this for years. That’s the kind of person the late Coach Henry O. Sanchez was.

I’m so proud that Henry came our way. His sudden death leaves a huge gap in the groups that have met for coffee, sports and politics at the Hillcrest.

We assume Henry has discovered that where he is now, the coffee is free.