When I was little, my mom used to take me to visit my great grandmother who lived in a nursing home in the country. I've found that people usually associate nursing homes with sadness, and that makes sense. But as a child I remember thinking it was a happy place. I got to know the people who lived there and I enjoyed visiting them. My favorite person there, aside from my grandmother, was a man I referred to as the Weeble Man. For very good reason. He only ever said, "Weeble." He clearly believed he was saying a great variety of things, and he used lots of inflection, but it all sounded like, "weeble, weeble, weeble." I usually found him sitting on the porch looking out toward the grass, trees and sky. I would sit next to him and we would have lengthy Weeble conversations. I loved it! I was a very imaginative child (surprising, I know) and I loved talking Weeble. I would ask him, "Weeble weeble weeble weeble?" and he would nod his head and reply, "Weeble weeble weeble." For your sake I won't bother typing out a really long example of one of our conversations. That might get tedious. But it was such a sweet experience talking to that man. I feel like we were often talking about the weather because he looked at the sky a lot. I wonder if he had been a farmer when he was younger? He seemed like a farmer to me.
I think we all speak different languages to some extent. That's why there are so many misunderstandings. But isn't it beautiful when we (whoever we are) sit next to someone (whoever they are) and try to learn their language? And as we learn their language, our own language becomes richer. It changes us for the better.