Ihr liewe Leit:
Balledix—wu mer iss, wu mer geht, heert mer vun Balledix.
Awwer wann ihr genunk vun Balledix habt, dann darreft ihr net em
Buhneschtiehl sei Buch lese. Mer kennt kenke ass en Driddel vun de Schticker
in Boonastiel: A Volume of Legend, Story and Song in “Pennsylvania Dutch” mit
Balledix zu duh hen. ZUm Beischpiel, “Der Alt Mann Laaft fer en Affiss”:
Oftmols duhne die Leit mich frooge wie’s kummt ass ich net rauskumm
fer en gudi, feddi Affiss – fer Schrief, odder fer Congress, odder fer in de
Semmbli?
Ich kann’s expleene. Ich bin ee Mol geloffe en Affiss, un ich hab
mei Mind uffgemacht ass sell aa es letscht Mol iss. Es waar vier Yaahr zerrick
an der Friehyaahrslection. Ich bin rauskumme fer Aarremefleger vun Township.
Ich hab browiert die Publican Nomination zu mache, awwer sie sin
zerrickgange uff mich un hen der Bensch Hess genominate. Dann hawwich die
Demmograade browiert, awwer sie hen der Dan Duchder uffgenumme. Dann bin ich
rauskumme independent, un hab sexhunnert Tickets drucke losse,un bin naus
unner die Leit, un schier yeder Mann hot mir die Hand gewwe un hot gsaat,
“Yaa, Buhneschtiehl, du bischt mei Mann, fer dich schtimm ich – uff sell
kannnscht du dich verlosse.”
Ich hab drei Daaler Joezaahlt fer die Tickets, un es hot mich
sex Daaler gekoscht and Hollerhecke am Lection Daag. Un alles iss recht gange
so weit. Dann hen sie die Tickets gzeehlt, un wie viel denkscht nau ass fer
mich gschtimmt hen?
Do sin die Ziffere: Fer der Bensch Hess, 147; fer der Dan Duschder,
117; un mich, Buhneschtiehl, 1. Dann wie alles verbei waar iss eener noch em
annere kumme un yeder hot geduh ass wann’s net fer ihn gewest waer, hett ich
gaar kee Schtimm grickt. All hen contend, en yeder fer sich selwer, ass er
hett mer selli Schtimm gewwe. Awwer dann waar mei Geduld am End.
Ich hab ihne dennoh graad rausgsaat in ihre Gsichder nei ass ich
nau schur bin ass sie all verflammde Liegner sin, weil ich exactly weess wer
selli eensich Ticket gschtimmt hot – es waar mei eegni Schtimm, un sell hot’s
gepruft ass net wennicher ass about drei hunnert Liegner im Township sin.
Un sidder sellem hawwich me Meind uffgemacht ass ich ken Affiss
accept so lang ass iss ich leb, un ass wann ebber mei Schtimm hawwe will, dann
muss era ns Marrick kumme C.O.D. vannenaus.
Ya, der Buhneschtiehl hot gschpassich vun Balledix schreiwe kenne.
Awwer neegscht Woch finne mer aus ass, wie der Scheeksbier mol gsaat hot, “En
mannichi Waahret iss im Gschpass gsaat.”
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
|
Dear people:
Politics – wherever you are, wherever you go, you hear about
politics.
But if you have had enough of politics, then you shouldn’t read
Boonastiel’s book. Once could thing that a third of the pieces in
Boonastiel: A Volume of Legend, Story and Song in “Pennsylvania Dutch”
have to do with politics. For example, “The Old Man Runs for an Office’:
Often the people ask me how it comes that I don’t come out for a
good, fat office – for sheriff, or for Congress, or for the Assembly?
I can explain it. I once ran for an office, and I made up my mind
that that is the last time. It was four years ago at the spring elections.
I came out for Director of the Poor of the township.
I tried to get the Republican nomination, but they went back on me
and nominated Benny Hess. Then I tried the Democrats, but they took up old
Dan Dushder. Then I came out as an Independent, and I had 600 tickets
printed, and I went out among the people, and almost everyone gave me his
hand and said, “yea, Boonastiel, you are my man, I’ll vote for you – on
that you can depend.”
I paid three dollars for the tickets, and it cost me
six dollars at Hollerheck’s bar on election day. And everything went all
right so far. Then they counted the tickets, and how many do you think
voted for me?
Here are the numbers: For Benny Hess, 147; for Dan Duschder, 117:
and me Boonastiel, 1. Then when everything was over, one after the other
came and acted if if it weren’t for him I would have gotten no vote at
all. They all contended, each by himself, that he had given be that vote.
But then my patience was at an end.
Then I told them right out in their faces that I was now sure that
they were all confounded liars, because I was sure exactly who voted that
only ticket – it was my own vote, and that proved that no fewer than about
300 liars are in the township.
And since then I made up my mind that I will accept no
office as long as I live, and that if someone wants my vote, then he has
to toe the mark previously C.O.D.
Yes, Boonastiel could write humorously about politics. But next
week we will find out that, as Shakespeare once said, “Many a truth is
said in a jest.”
Take care,
The Old Professor |
