SAVA-R-RATCH
(To be pronounced with a German accent to it). This is one of many made up words that my poor kids have had to deal with, all of their lives. Their crazy Dad, (me,) continues to have a need to coin words to express hidden meanings not available in Shakespeare’s common language. (The Bard needed to coin a surprisingly huge amount of additions to English that are still in use today, not that I would dare to compare myself to him.) https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/shakespedia/shakespeares-words/
Sava-r-ratch, (roll that r), is used to adequately describe that hopeless feeling, along with the chain of events that occur when (as German speakers put it,) you build yourself an accident and then slam your relatively recent model car into another relatively recent model car. (Dad teaching moment here: unlike our usual “I had an accident randomly happen, woe is me,” Germans insist that you built yourself the accident, you were picking your nose, etcetera.) Common usage of this new term: “if you don’t get off the accelerator right now, you will SAVA-R-RATCH into the car ahead of you.” Sava-r-ratch cannot be used with antique cars. The word basically describes the sound of plastic hitting plastic, a distinctly different sound then metal hitting metal, (Keee-bunch) or metal hitting plastic, (Krrumpf). This will be important later in this blog.
A few Christmases ago, as yours truly was snow blowing his Wisconsin snow, I noticed that two college aged people decided to have a long, serious, conversation in their car in front of my building. Probably one was my tenant. There was a good chance that they were filled with holiday cheer since this was late at night during the yule festival week. The problem was that my city, high density neighborhood’s street parking spots are worth more than a good Christmas present. This is because of our metropolitan, alternate side, street parking ordinances. The young tenants therefore decided to have their extended conversation while in a standing car in the driving lane, idling next to the parked cars. To the dear young philosopher’s credit, there was very little late night traffic and they did turn on their emergency flashers. The whole arrangement made me nervous though so I kept an eye on them as I pushed snow. Enter, stage left, another car full of youthful yuletide revelers. A load of mead in the tummy has a way of hiding emergency flashers ahead, so you guessed it. SAVA-R-RATCH, right in front of me.
Everyone got out to look at the damage. Seeing that no one was hurt, I ran to put my snow blower away and then stand, proudly full of civic duty, to be a police report witness. A true Christmas miracle happened when I came back out. The new fallen snow scene was EMPTY! Oh, there were little bits of plastic everywhere, but no Sava-r-ratch cars. Considering that yuletide spirits most probably was involved, I could imagine the stories home tomorrow.
“Really Dad, when I parked the car it was OK!”
Since some in my city’s police department call center seem insulted when you bother them late at night as a witness of a non-violent event, I just took my exhausted self to bed. I was shaking my head at how stupid kids are when it occurred to me in my sleeping cap, that just a few years ago, yours truly could have had the same occurrence on the very same street but ending with a Krrumpf. To those that would have called me a simpleton, the only difference is that theirs would be a Keee-bunch. (The reader may need to go to the beginning of this piece to review the meanings of the terms here.)
I have been involved in an organization where members of the old, (Krrumpf) crowd have been desperately fighting against the growth of youthful (Keee-bunch) and (Sava-r-ratch) leadership. Though the saying does exist that “old age and treachery always wins out over youth and exuberance” that saying only works for a while. Eventually the old eagles need to let the young ones fly. If nothing else, our physical bodies demand it.
I recently thought about a man in my past that is no longer with us. He ended up mentoring a whole bunch of us young bucks quite a while ago. We now old bucks happened to run into each other in a social setting not that long ago. I looked at them and commented.
“You know, we didn’t realize it then but LaVerne was mentoring us.” We all nodded and had to acknowledge how valuable that now long departed friend was, in spite of our naiveté at the time. Sava-r-ratch will happen, just as Krrumpf and Keee-bunch did. Welcome to the human race. No matter the generation, we left them a mess but we also did much good.
This is not a negative conversation. It is actually most hopeful and positive as the young’uns “step up,” whatever that means. If we look at them and shake our heads then we need to remember that we were about as unpromising to older generation’s eyes as well. That is life. We know the difference between mentoring and desperately clinging to control and must act accordingly. Yes, they are going to do things that we disagree with. We disagreed with our older folks as well so let’s get to work.
