Lingo

In age regression lingo, when someone regresses and takes on the mentality of their younger self, they're in "little space."

I'd love to work in Germany, but I don't speak the lingo.

You have to use the lingo if you want to be taken seriously in meetings.

Today the 6th of August of 2023 has been a fabulous day here on Lulu Island to do with my Fijian neighbours, the Wongs, who are partly Chinese and partly East Indian. Moli the grandma has given us about a dozen green figs from her backyard trees. (Incidentally, her name means "orange" in Fijian.) In return, Mama has me give them Swiss chard and three green poblanos, grown by my elder brother Fernando in Vancouver. Moli has given us her exotic cooking. In Moli's kitchen, her husband Leong and she are watching a Sunday church television show. I know that the Wongs are Catholic, but the show is not. In the corner of Moli's kitchen is fully decorated with Fijian masks, etc., which intrigue me, being an art collector myself. I talk with her grownup kids Sandra and Isaac. The Wongs resemble Japanese to me. Sandra and Isaac will be visiting Western Europe in September. Sandra and Moli have previously been to Greece. I recount my experience there with amazing whitewashed buildings with blue roofs. I say to them that some Japanese fantasize to live in a Mediterranean village. I say that some of my Greek-Jew ancestors from Greece settled in Panama, so I have relatives there today. My great-grandfather instead went to the Philippines. Sandra has visited Costa Rica. We agree that tourists should not be so "snooty" and should learn some of the local lingo. Such makes friendlier relations. I go home to make "horchata de arroz" or rice drink mix from El Salvador, given by my elder brother.

Older parents may be at a disadvantage because they didn't grow up in the Internet Age. But John Walsh recommends that they develop their computer skills, and learn the lingo, or shorthand phrases kids use when chatting on-line.

The morning was drizzling, this 28th of December of 2024. (Incidentally, there are 28 letters in the Esperanto alphabet.) I walked to Tim Hortons, there to eat a croissant and a hash brown, and to drink an oat milk iced coffee. Amongst the vendors were handsome men, Joban and Pushpak. The ladies were pretty. They were all South Asians. There was a fat Eurasian boy toddler with his white mama and Sinospheric papa amongst the customers. At our house, Rex, the cousin of my cousin Eve, arrived from the states. A devout Roman Catholic Filipino, he was wearing a necklace with a hanging crucifix when he greeted me. I exclaimed "Mr. Lingo!": Like I, he has been a long-time language fanatic, and now he is learning Portuguese and Polish. He knows that my "favourite" is Esperanto. He amused himself with my dark red T-shirt with the vertical phrase in white letters in Spanish: "¡Las estrellas son Australias!" ("The stars are Australias!" about outer space and potential future colonies on the cold and hot desert worlds beyond our Earth). I was wearing also a red baseball cap with yellow lettering of "XANADU, TITAN": a reference to a mystical region on Saturn's moon. Rex would be sojourning with my Filipino family, here on Lulu Island, for the weekend visit. He earlier communicated that he would want "bubble tea" from here. I complimented Rex that he still "looks the same" from decades ago.

[...] I have Thoughts to tarry a ſmall Matter in Town, to learn ſomewhat of your Lingo firſt, before I croſs the Seas.

"You see, ma'am, I can't divest myself of my professional lingo," observed Mr. Banks.

Nobody could make out plain what she said, for she was mainly jabbering Swede lingo, but there was English enough, of a kind, to give us some idee.

Granny Ava was the link: the last heathen of the family to speak the lingo fluently, before the Church waltzed in and jammed the Lord's Prayer in Granny Ruth's twelve-year-old mouth instead.