Fresh as snow - and a plug for phone interpreting.

Weather watch: it went so far as to snow here in Port Townsend. Waking up this morning, all the Shunras were astonished at the beauty of the vista before us. White on asphalt! White on roofs! White, in fact, on our own roof-in-progress (the roofers, having done some roofing in the rain, decided to skip the slipping in the snow and will be back on Monday to finish their shingling). Schools did not close, so we can continue to translate full-steam ahead, which is a very good thing. I think we had about a quarter of an inch, but a quarter-inch is enough for pretty!

Nice and fresh, which is a good way to start a season. And I can tell that the season has just started, because I got a request for a ketubah. Now, a ketubah is traditionally the document foisted upon a Jewish woman as part of the marriage ceremony, a deal signed by her father and husband (but not herself, because Jewish tradition considers women unfit to act as legal persons), describing the terms of the dissolution of their marriage. Kind of a prenup from a period when women were chattel. The document is traditionally illuminated and hung on the wall – perhaps by way of reminding the husband just how expensive it would be to rid himself of his wife. Modern Americans with a taste for Judaism like to order these for their marriage ceremonies; if I’m involved, it’s because the language was changed to reflect the fact that the deal is struck between husband and wife nowadays. The illuminated ketubahs are still beautiful pieces of art, with English vows in the form of poetry, and couples on the verge of marriage almost always need a Hebrew translation for the new language that they have wrought. This is a growth industry for Judaica artists, and we end up putting some of the poetic – and usually unrealistic – sentiments into modern Hebrew for a minimum rate. The first one came in the mail this week, just as the buds started poking out in our backyard orchard. Ah, young couples.

Fresh like spring, or like the sudden stunning understanding by the Torino Olympic Organizing Committee, who skimped on interpreters and ended up with a medallist rendered mute to all but Japanese-speaking audiences: Shizuka Arakawa was hobbled at her press conference by a volunteer interpreter-wannabe. Skating that fine shouldn’t be made to speak for itself now, should it? Keep this clip to petition your local Olympic Organizing Committee: professional interpreters are the life-blood of international events, no matter when and where.

Now, what is it about the court system? A young woman was killed in a traffic accident involving two men who cannot speak English - or not involving them, because everyone in the U.S. is innocent until proven guilty unless they’re charged under the PATRIOT Act. Does the court have interpreters on call? Nope. The facts of the case will be discovered only after the ATA find-an-interpreter page is found. Yo! Courts! Google is your friend!

Courts as well as hospitals were involved when 10 month old Ravindor Toor was unable to access care because he was a baby – and his dad, Naib, didn’t want to go to the hospital without an interpreter. Hello, hospital? There are services that offer telephone interpreting. I know that for a fact, I do it! There’s no excusing a father who doesn’t take a baby with a broken wrist to the hospital. What I hope for the father would burn a hole through your screen. But hospitals everywhere need to make it known that phone interpretation is available, just in case. Kids with language-disabled parents deserve good healthcare, too!

Oy. That left a bad taste in my brain. Weekend posts will be a little different – exactly how? Drop on by and see. My roundup of translators in the news will reappear on Monday, if the creek don’t rise...