“Let’s try some situational translations. Something extreme first. You’re walking down the street and you see that Mrs. Holiday’s kitchen is on fire. She’s standing in her yard, her back to her house, unaware. How do you tell her?” “Fire, fire,” January said. “Direct. And that’s almost correct,” I said. The youngest of them, lean and tall five-year-old Rachel, said, “Lawdy, missum! Looky dere.”
