Vignette April 9

M April 9

In Merced we stop at an enormous Home Depot by the highway to buy a pair of pliers to fix a sleeping bag zipper. actually, all Home Depots in California seem to be enormous, and this one was the same as all the others, so perhaps I should say 'at a Home Depot.' 

Inside, the cavernous building I hear a cashier saying to a customer, "¿Y el número de telefono?" Spanish is ubiquitous in California, and so is bilingualism. In the grocery store in Lancaster the cashier deals in Spanish with the previous customer (who greets her with "Hola") and then in English with Kate. although she tells Kate the total is vente y ocho and then corrects herself to twenty-eight. 

Spanish is on the move here. It's not just migrant workers; it's the whole middle class. And the creative fertility of bilingualism is also everywhere. In a state park I hear a man in a pickup ask a ranger the way to the exit. "Right out that way," says the ranger, and then I hear the man in the pickup begin joking with his friend in Spanish: we are such chowderheads not be able to find our way out of here; didn't we drive past this firewood shack twice before; yeah, but it was your fault! At least that's what I think they were saying: my Spanish is pretty poor. If I lived here though I'd be working on it: it's where things are going.