Letters Come in Ambolaps to Explain

In commenting the other day on the contents of 10-year-old Yesenia Tovar’s purse, as reported in an essay she wrote for her teacher, I confessed that I had no idea what she meant by the word ambolaps . She had said that her purse contained “crayons, ambolaps, pens, pencils, and 1 dollar.”

I have received a flood of letters chiding me for my ignorance and lack of imagination.

I’m surprised you have no idea what Yesenia Tovar’s ‘ambolaps’ might be,” writes Sol R. Shein. “Perhaps I expected more of a fellow ex-Fresnerd!” (Shein refers to my brief residence, as a small boy, in Fresno. We Fresnerds never forget.)

“You are putting us on!” says Ruth Reedy of Santa Monica. “An ambolap is what I put this note in and then addressed it and stamped it. You know--you kidded us.”

“You caused me to spend my Wednesday evening pondering the meaning of Yesenia’s ambolaps ,” writes Barbara Wong of West Los Angeles. “I have reached a conclusion based upon my nearly 15 years of being an elementary school teacher. Deciphering the unknown is a challenge of my profession.

“ Ambolaps is merely another spelling for the more traditional envelopes --like what I will send this note to you in. I’m willing to stake my credential on this conclusion. . . .”

Cynthia B. Bianchi of Palos Verdes Estates writes: “As a volunteer teacher of bilingual fourth-grade at Torrance Elementary School perhaps I can shed some light on the word ambolaps . . . . I believe Miss Tovar actually carries envelopes in her purse. Her first language is probably Spanish and so her ear may hear the English short e as the Spanish a sounds, as in Antonio. The English n may be heard as an m , while in Spanish the letter v is often sounded as a soft b sound. The remainder of the consonants are correctly placed in the word. So you see, she is really not too far off. And by the way, Miss Tovar did spell pencils correctly. . . .” What diverted me from this obvious conclusion is that Miss Tovar did spell pencils correctly, unlike several of her classmates, and this led me to believe that ambolaps was spelled correctly too, and so must represent some article of a little girl’s paraphernalia that I had never heard of.

Meanwhile, Pat Ostrye of Escondido writes with envy of the stuffed purses described by the Lynwood schoolgirls. Miss Ostrye went to a Catholic school, and she doesn’t remember having anything when she was 12. She doesn’t even remember carrying a purse to school. The school had no cafeteria, so she didn’t even need lunch money. “We carried our lunch or ran home (nine blocks) to have a hot meal.

“As for combs or hairbrushes, heaven forbid that we should be caught with anything as frivolous as that, to say nothing of LIPSTICK! Mascara was unheard of as well as painting one’s nails at that age. What a neglected education!”

Ms. Ostrye encloses a Monrovia Journal column written years ago by Peter C. Ostrye (a brother, evidently), which, ironically, discloses the contents of the pockets of a nun at what I assume was the same school.

“Sister’s pockets were the source of greatest joy; when she would search for something they seemed bottomless, filled with all manner of objects, an endless cache of loot more awesome than a pirate’s chest--candy bars, pocket knives, whistles, baseballs, combs, gum--booty gleaned from us careless rovers of the educational seas. As one sister stated, when she was removing some loot, her pockets held everything from a screwdriver to a grand piano. . . .”

Susy Cammack complains that she would like to get rid of her purse, but women’s fashions don’t allow it. “Many women, like me, attempt to stop carrying a purse, only to find that it is nearly impossible (not due to nail polish--I never wear it) but due to the simple fact that women’s clothing is not manufactured with as many pockets as men’s clothing is. I believe this is the reason I love my Levi’s--I can put my wallet in my back pocket and I’m raring to go!”

Maybe Ms. Cammack could solve her problem by becoming a nun and getting into a habit.