A peculiar way.

My Italian amore has arrived. Here in Minnesota. For most of the rest of summer.  Until she has to return. To Sardinia. Where she teaches English and English literature. Of course, she tries to teach me, too. Italian. Unfortunately, I'm a relatively slow learner. And I speak with a heavy American accent.  Though I have mastered 'ciao.' Without an accent. She tells me I could pass for Italian. If I only used the word 'ciao.' Anyway, she speaks English with a lovely, lilting accent. She also speaks Italian with a Sardinian accent.  Or so I'm told. I can't differentiate between any of the regional accents in Italy. It all sounds like plain Italian to me. Seems that everyone has an accent of one kind or another. No matter the language. Apparently, I have a distinctive voice modulation and way of talking. I rarely have to identify myself. Even when calling someone I haven't talked to in 10 years. Maybe it has something to do with my extraordinary big mouth. Actually, I have a peculiar way of writing, too. --Jim Broede