Someone has emailed Ezra and wants to know what it was like to live with Ken Hale.
This inquiry has gotten me thinking.
It must be different to live your life with someone who has a special gift, has a unique ability, recognized by the people with whom he interacts.
I think my realization came gradually because I had known Ken since we were quite young, he twelve and I fourteen. Initially I was attracted to him because I thought him handsome. His special interest just seemed part of him. He was also interested in Gun Smithing and Trapping. So I just thought, "that is who he is."
He seemed very attracted to me and was always there and available as a boyfriend whenever our lives intersected.
He once said to me, “Why did you choose me?”
I said, “No bad vibes.”
He was very hurt by this but I think he didn’t realize how many men there were out there with serious flaws, from a woman’s point of view.
We kind of grew up, went through life, and were separated by death. I’ve had a few dreams about him since he died and feel they are insights into our relationship.
About two weeks after Ken’s death I dreamed I came into our bed room and he was standing on his side of the bed in his robe that I had made him.
He said, “I’m sorry”.
I threw my arms around him and hugged him and said,
“I miss you so.” And he was gone.
5/21/04: I dreamed Ken rode up on a bicycle and dismounted. I threw my arms around him and kissed and kissed him on his cheek.
I said, “I’m so lonely, stay with me.”
He said, “I can’t” and disappeared.
5/16/08 I dreamed I was in a Market and realized I didn’t have the car keys to get myself home.
I started calling, “Ken, Ken”. And was distressed at how weak, and feeble my voice sounded.
I tried to call louder, younger. I saw Ken coming toward me wearing a shirt he had of red and white plaid. He was pushing a grocery cart and alternately smiling and looking concerned.
I thought, “There he is. He will get me home.”
I think living with a Polyglot concerns two Domains: one is the Language Gift and the other Personality.
I remember reading J. P. Harrington’s wife’s autobiography with a lot of interest even before I thought of myself as being married to someone with language phenomena.
Her book was titled; Encounter with an Angry God. Now here was a linguist, gifted, who was incredibly difficult. I’ve since learned that he must have been paranoid. He hid his notes and manuscripts in many different places and some were never found.
I realized pretty early in our marriage that Ken had just one interest, languages; all languages. He never ranked them as worthy of study. He did acknowledge that some were more “difficult” to learn than others. (Navajo, Gaelic, Basque).
I think my support of his interest first evolved around my realization that this was how he was going to support us financially. That language work was what he was suited for and what he wanted to do and that teaching this interest could bring in an adequate salary.
As the wife in this marriage it was my obligation to help him succeed in this profession.
This support from me meant going where he wanted to go and freeing him up to do his work while I did the rest, the household, entertaining, finances, children in the family.
This division of labor worked well for us. He worked hard, was successful professionally earned an adequate income for our needs and didn’t second guess my decisions about family matters. I did realize that this gave him what he wanted, time to do his “work”. He did show some initial irritation when I would ask for help that took him away from his work. Usually he would stop what he was doing and “get it over with so that I can get back to work”.
He would do the requested task willingly after expressing the initial irritation with the interruption.
The parts of Ken that I admired were his generosity, his ability to have a unique window into other cultures through their languages. He was a strong and articulate advocate.
Often he was reluctant to defend him self but he would become a Gladiator for the down trodden minority ( Native Americans, Australian Aborigines, indigenous remnant tribes of Nicaragua ) faced with a voracious majority.
I admired his willingness to share his materials and insights. He felt there was such a wealth of language and grammar in the world that he could never do everything he wanted to do in his lifetime.
“I’ve got to interest other people in working on this.” (problem)
In thinking about the existence of God, he said, “I think if there is evidence of the existence of God it is Grammar.”
I think he was puzzled by my lack of interest in Languages. I remember him trying to interest me by saying, “Each new language is like a mystery to be solved.”
He was strongly opposed to the death penalty.
He said, “Imagine being the poor person who everyone wants to die, how alone you would feel.”
That gave me pause and I have felt that I should support his insight.
Before Ken died I said to him:
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll always be around you.”
“If I move will you be able to find me?”
“I have tricks.”
September 23, 2010,
I am missing Ken a lot today. Thinking how time stopped for him and continued for me. I feel like I left him, back there, somewhere, alone.
I remember before he died, when he was unable to leave our room he said, “I’m afraid you are going to go off and leave me here ( abandon me ).”
It seemed such a logical understandable fear. It was the first time he could not physically follow me. I said everything I could think of to reassure him.
“I wouldn’t leave you for anything.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
September 25, 2010
I am remembering that about one month before he died, when he was pretty much bed bound, I decided to wash Ken’s feet.
I spread the towel on the floor and had him sit on the side of the bed. I brought a large plastic basin (the one I used to make bread in) filled with warm water. I placed his feet in the water to soak then soaped them up and rubbed of the old skin. I dried each one then cut his toenails. We finished up with baby powder.
I remember how he smiled and how pleased he looked. He deeply enjoyed the loving personal touch. I’m so glad I did it and have this memory.
