Swope name origin, or "There and Back Again"

A few weeks ago, our German tutor mentioned that he thought my last name, Swope, was an Anglicized version of the German name, Swab or Schwab, referring to someone from Swabia. He went on to say that, nowadays in Germany, to call someone a Swabian is effectively calling them an ignorant, ill-mannered Barbarian. This morning, I thought I'd do a little digging to see if he was right. It turns out that he is.

The Swabians were a western Germanic tribe (labeled barbarians by the Romans) that dates back to the first century BC. They gained prominence as they moved south into Roman territory as that empire was waning around 400AD. Other Germanic tribes from the east that also emigrated around the same time were the Vandals and Visigoths, whose names were more familiar to me than the Swabians. The word, barbarian, carries a lot of meaning in modern language, but I believe it derives from an original Greek word that simply means "stranger" or "foreigner".

In any case, it appears the Swabians were a fairly influential, and sophisticated, people for several centuries across large portions of, formerly-Roman, Europe, but their primary region was Southern Germany. Their territory included the modern German states/regions of Baden (including the modern-day cities of Munich & Freiburg), Bavaria (including the entire Black Forest), northern Switzerland (including modern-day Basel and Lake Constance), southeast into Austria, and west into France (Alsace region and modern Strasbourg). I even found one source that mentions how influential they were as far west as Portugal. They did fight amongst themselves, with the Romans, and with their fellow Germanic neighbors from time to time, but they weren't as overly warlike as the Visigoths and some other barbarian tribes. They were very successful farmers and herdsmen. The Swabians were said to have adopted much from the Romans and to have integrated well with the local Helvetii, a Celtic tribe who were an early (and prominent) people that settled much of what would become Switzerland. To this day, Switzerland's official Latin name is Confederatio Helvetica and the female personification of the country, similar to America's Columbia, is named Helvetia in honor of those people.

I marvel at the irony that I moved thousands of miles from my home country and, by coincidence, now live within (or at least within a very few kilometers of) the ancestral homeland of the people who gave me my name.

Again, you may already know all this, but in case you didn't, I also learned that genealogical research conducted by others reveals that the first "Swope" (Jost Schwab) emigrated from Baden, Germany to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania in 1709 with his family. He was followed by Jakob Schwob from Switzerland in 1749 who settled nearby in Lebanon County, PA. They were both skilled craftsmen in their home countries, but became farmers after relocating to the US and most of their direct descendants continued the farming tradition. Another source I found suggests that Jost's daughter preceded him to the US with her husband and may have officially been the first "Swope" in America, but she was married and, thus, had her husband's name. Yet another source points to Conrad and Philip Schwab as the first "Swopes" in America in 1709, followed by Joggi (this name seems pretty close to Jakob, imo) and Hans Michael Schwab in 1749, and Adam Schwabel in 1754. All three sources agree that these early immigrants all arrived into the port of Philadelphia and settled in Pennsylvania.

Perhaps you've already done similar research of your own, but this is all new to me. Here are some sources I found:

http://www.cynthiaswope.com/withinthevines/yost.html
http://worldroots.com/brigitte/swope/swop1.htm
http://libro.uca.edu/stanislawski/Chap9.htm
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~banatdata/Glogowatz/FrankGerner/Coins.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swabian

A couple interesting remarks about the ancient Swabians are that they preferred fighting over farming, but that they were extremely accomplished farmers and made great use of fertile lands throughout the areas they occupied, especially between the Danube and Rhein rivers.

Fritz Rahn, who I believe was a German linguist or anthropologist, had this to say about the Swabians (at least the modern decendants) according to Wikipedia:

"It has been evident for a long time that, of all members of all the Germanic tribes, the Swabian is the most difficult to understand and the most mysterious. In him the most intense contradictions are found. Often, in one individual, meet both extreme boldness and amazing timidity, rebelliousness and philistinism, winning kindness and resentful standoffishness, skillfulness and awkwardness, firmness and instability, mistrust and friendliness, soaring idealism and grounded realisticism."

Hope you found this as interesting and informative as I did.

Joke - The English speak English

I read a humorous joke today that perfectly expresses the usefulness of knowing multiple languages and the, generally, limited language abilities of native English speakers. It was posted on the Ex-pats-in-Zurich Yahoo! group by dominichiggins:

A Swiss traveler, requiring directions, pulls up to a bus stop where two Englishmen are waiting.

"Entschuldigung Sie, koennen Sie Deutsch sprechen?" he politely inquires.

The two Englishmen respond with a silent stare.

The Swiss man tries again, "Excusez-moi, parlez vous Francais?"

The two continue to stare back at him.

"Parlare Italiano?" he tries.

No response.

"Hablan ustedes Espanol?"

Still nothing.

Finally, disgusted with the pair, the Swiss traveler drives off.

The first Englishman turns to the second and says, "Y'know, maybe we should learn a foreign language..."

"Why?" says the other, "That bloke knew four of 'em and look at all the good it did him."

The Appenzeller Incident!

Hello again,

I'm compiling another list of observations and quirky facts about Switzerland, but I thought I'd share a story in the mean time.

Stephanie and I didn't move our family to Zurich just to live American lives in a foreign country. We want to experience Swiss customs, traditions, and way of life. One way we've been trying to accomplish that is by sampling various Swiss foods. This is a true story of one of those experiments . . .

Question: If it looks like Emmentaler Swiss Cheese, but smells like cow manure, what is it?
Answer: Appenzeller Swiss, the shtinkiest cheese I ever did meet.

Since first arriving in Zurich, we've tried at least one new Swiss cheese each week. After my first encounter with Appenzeller cheese, I've since looked it up on the internet and learned a thing or two. I have seen it variously described as "uniquely spicy", "distinctive", and "strong smelling"; none of which does justice to the funk this thing throws off! To be fair, we may have had a bad batch, but this is all I have to go on.

It is believed that Appenzeller cheese dates back 1500 years, which sounds just about right - I think the sample we got had been sitting around for a bit. It gets its name from the Appenzell region of Switzerland, where there is a traditional saying:

"Ave Maria, God save and bless the cows and all our friends and our country".

As far as I know, that is the complete saying, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that "from our cheese" were originally the last three words of that phrase.

All kidding aside, Appenzeller is one of the most popular cheeses in Switzerland and one of the most popular Swiss varieties in all of Europe. Its smell is extremely pungent, but its flavor is apparently worth it. Stephanie cut the package open to include some in her lunch, was nearly knocked over by the funk, immediately stuffed it back into a Ziploc in the fridge, and grabbed some Emmentaler (what Americans know as holey "Swiss cheese") instead.

Later that day, I braved the smell and cut a slice for myself. I took a small bite and struggled not to spit it out. Mein Gott! The only thing that helped me get it down was the memory of the countless times we've told our 3-year-old never to spit out his food and my desire to be a good role model.

After choking the first bite down raw, I wanted to give it a full and fair chance, so I had the remainder of my slice on a cracker. I have to admit, it tasted pretty good on a cracker, but still stank like... well like rotten cheese. Even through the plastic store packaging and the sealed Ziploc bag, the hint of Appenzeller pervaded our fridge for the next few days. I could not muster the nerve to try it again as I feared nothing that smells that bad could possibly be good for my health.

Steph and I discussed it and agreed that the only choice was to dispose of the remaining wedge. But how? Not in our trash. Oh, No! This cheese was far too funktastic for a simple trash bag to manage. I suppose we could've left it in the fridge until it was time to empty the trash, but we feared that more time would only give the smell time to permanently set into the plastic, metal, and rubber of the fridge. No, we had to get it out of the house altogether.

So, after sunset, I snatched the offensive Ziploc baggie by a corner, dropped it in our bio trash can, and quickly returned the can's lid. Thankfully, the mingled odor of decaying banana peels, apple cores, peach pits, and moldy bread crusts wafting up from the bin was enough to mask the scent of the cheese. Under cover of dark, I made my way down to the large biodegradable waste dumpster off the cul-de-sac in front of our home. I should confess that I am not "officially" permitted to dispose of my bio waste in this dumpster as it is labeled for the exclusive use of, seemingly, every other building within a one block radius except ours. For whatever reason, we don't seem to have our own bio dumpster. I hoped the neighbors wouldn't mind (actually, I hoped they wouldn't notice) as I lifted the dumpster lid with one hand and quickly upended my bin with the other.

On the walk down to the dumpster, I had planned how to minimize my exposure time to this, now potentially harmful, substance - I would take a breath, then flip the lid off my little bin with my thumb so I had both hands free to hurriedly disgorge its offensive contents. But the fumes must've affected my thinking, because I failed to consider one important fact - plastic isn't biodegradable and my Appenzeller was still wrapped in, not only its original plastic packaging, but also a Ziploc bag! Schiesse!

My environmental conscience wouldn't let me just walk away and leave it; I had to make things right. I considered stepping back to grab another deep breath of unpolluted air before heading back indoors, but decided instead to just get it over with as quickly as possible. Thankfully, the dumpster was filled nearly to the top with branches, flower trimmings, and grass clippings so I didn't have to go digging deep. At this point, getting decaying plant matter on me was the least of my concerns as I rested the dumpster lid on the top of my head and fought to continue holding my breath. With both hands, I unzipped the bagged, grabbed the cheese in my left hand, peeled back the wrapper with my right, and dropped the cheese in the dumpster.

At that moment, I would've paid good money for a glove or even one of those little baggies people use to pick up their doggie doo in the park. Even better would've been to get some of that powerful menthol rub that rescue workers put under their noses when they recover rotting corpses. I stuffed the wrapper back into the Ziploc, the Ziploc back into my bio bin, and tried not to bang the dumpster lid closed to give myself away at the very end.

You may be aware that in less-developed regions of the world, one's left hand is considered the "unclean hand" as it serves the role for which toilet paper was invented. That's about how I felt. When I got back upstairs, I wrapped the Ziploc inside another plastic bag that was already in our trash and stuffed it down deep. I then washed my hands with one of those super-fragrant, aroma-therapy, anti-biotic hand soaps from Bath and Body Works… twice! I lathered, rinsed, and repeated, baby! Even so, I spent the rest of the night trying not to touch my face because the hint of that funkrageous cheese lingered on the fingers of my despoiled left hand.

I still wonder if we just got a bad wedge because I can't believe anyone with a working sniffer would willingly eat this. Things smell bad for a reason, right? Isn't that our nose's way of warning us against poisoning ourselves?

Let nobody question the courage of the Swiss, for they eat Appenzeller.

Though I've presented this story in a humorous manner, I assure you that it is 100% true. I hope you get a kick out of it.

Ciao for now...