Language Log

« previous post | next post »

[Warning:  graphic content.  If you are squeamish about detailed descriptions of wounded, putrefying human flesh, and excruciating medical treatment without anesthesia, it would be best to avoid reading the ending portion of this post.]

I met a retired teacher here in Gothenburg, Nebraska.  His name is Sydney Kite and he is 81 years old.  I asked him how he got such an unusual surname, and he told me a long story about that, which I shall reduce to a few sentences.

Syd's ancestors were originally English, but to escape religious persecution for their heretical beliefs at the hands of Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658), they fled England and went to the area of Germany that we now refer to as Alsace-Lorraine.  There, they underwent thorough Germanization.

Subsequently, by the latter part of the 18th century, they moved to the United States,  At the time, they spelled their surname Windlekeit, but the immigration authorities shortened that to "Kite".  Syd's son Bryan studied in the Lauder Institute of the Wharton School at UPenn in the early 90s, so I was aware of that surname.  The Lauder Institute puts heavy emphasis on excellent language skills, and Bryan was advanced in Spanish, French, and Portuguese.

The Windlekeits, still calling themselves by that name, settled in eastern Tennessee in the area around Johnson City.  I was gratified to find that surname with that exact spelling in this list of the "Families of Hawkins County Tennessee 1786-1994".  Later they moved to Texas where, as is well known, there were many German-speaking towns established by settlers in the mid-19th century.  In some of these towns and cities, such as Fredericksburg, German language influence is still strong.

By the time he moved to Gothenburg, Syd was completely Americanized, and — after receiving an education degree at Kearney College — he taught in Nevada schools.  I was fortunate to meet him in the Gothenburg Historical Museum, where in his retirement he was serving as a volunteer.  We had a long, leisurely talk about all sorts of things, but especially about language and communication after he found out that I was a professor of Chinese at Penn.

Speaking about how important language is for a person, Syd told me the harrowing, yet inspiring, story of his great great great great uncle, who was wounded on the battlefield in the Civil War.  Those were hellish times for America, with deep animosity and division in that part of the country.   Some people were Confederates, some supported the Union, right in the same town, even within the same family.

Syd's great great great great uncle was shot in the mouth, the musket ball destroying his palate.  He lay dying for three days when two women who were scavenging the bodies noticed that he was alive.  They cleaned out the wound with twigs and rags, removing the maggots that were crawling in it, then poured coal oil onto the lacerated flesh.  

Not knowing what coil oil was, I could scarcely believe what Syd was saying, so I queried him twice on what coal oil means.  After the second time, he said, "Like kerosine".  Here are its medicinal uses:

Coal oil was once used as an internal and topical home remedy as a general cure-all for many ailments, including coughs, flu, cuts, abrasions, and wounds. Internal applications were administered by adding the toxic petroleum product to sugar cubes, molasses, honey or some other substance to mask the taste, while topical applications were applied by adding it to bandages or by pouring the coal oil directly on the affected area.

(Wikipedia)

Syd's gggg uncle lived to his 90s.  But, to be able to speak, every morning he had to stuff corn bread into the hole where the intact palate had been.  Mixed to the right consistency, it would have acted as a sort of dental putty.

Naturally, I was incredulous about all of this, but Syd struck me as an honest man, plus all of the specific, arcane minutiae he repeated lent credence to his account.  So does this forum about the most painful wounds received during the Civil War.  It consists of three pages of heart-wrenching accounts of men who were grievously wounded and survived, including those who had their jaws and, in some cases, tongue shot off, complete with photographs.

Also listening in to Syd's account was Bryan Brede, his 87-year-old long-term teacher colleague, who didn't bat an eye during the whole description.  He must have hear it before.

Selected readings

• "Texas German" (4/25/20)
• "Nest: a rare and perplexing surname" (4/15/24)
• "Respect the local pronunciation: runza and Henri" (6/13/24)

June 15, 2024 @ 3:21 pm · Filed by Victor Mair under Language and history, Language and medicine, Names

Permalink