Note: Please don't forget about my Reader's Poll up there in the upper right corner of this web page. For more information about the poll, the 'why' of it, so to speak, please read yesterday's post by clicking HERE.
And on to today....
I think mostly the women will get a kick out of this one.
So yesterday morning, Handsome wanted to go to the Moose for breakfast. If you read yesterday’s blog, you know we went, and he got to run about playing with the other kids who had only gone there to eat bacon and play. He did, however, get bored early.
“Can we go?”
“You mean go home?”
“Missing your computer game?”
“Okay, we can go. Hey!”
I had to call him back since he had already taken off for the door.
“Let’s go say goodbye to your grandfather first, okay?”
So we went over to the omelet station in the food line where my dad was chucking eggs and things into pans to order. As my father came around the station to collect a hug from the boy, the man who was standing there waiting for his omelet turned to me and stuck out a hand.
“Hey, Tang Soo! Long time no see!”
“Holy crap!” I shouted. “No kidding! Long time!”
The handshake became a hug.
Tang Soo is the school cry of the karate style I studied for about 14 years, Tang Soo Do. The guy in line was someone I hadn’t seen in about 10 years, but that I used to work with on a pretty regular basis when I was studying the martial art. I practiced self-defense with this guy, studied Forms with him, and sparred against him for years.
We did the whole ‘catching up’ thing: he told me what he had been up to for the past decade, I told him what I’d been doing (both in the really short form, of course). We both outlined why we’d gotten out of karate, citing physical ailments, exchanged news we had on mutual acquaintances, and how we had either maintained or reestablished touch with former schoolmates through FaceBook. Strangely, we hadn’t kept in touch with any of the same people.
After almost ten minutes of reminiscing and catching up, Handsome cruised by.
“I’ll be waiting outside, Dad,” he said, then headed for the door.
“Is that your boy?” my friend said, pointing toward the retreating figure.
“Yup,” I said. “That’s my son, and this is my dad.”
And this was my downfall.
“This is your father?” he said, and stepped forward to shake my dad’s hand.
And now I had to admit that, after ten minutes of conversation, I wasn’t sure I could remember this guy’s name.
“Dad, this is a friend of mine from karate, a long time ago.”
I looked at the guy, squinting apologetically.
“…and I have to admit that I’ve been trying to remember… and I want to say… Bill?”
“Yes,” he said, looking relieved, then also squinting at me uncertainly.
“And you’re … Rob? Right?”
“Yes!” I said, relieved as hell that he had a memory as unreliable as mine.
So there we were. Two guys, who had known each other for years and then lost touch for years, standing there getting all caught up with each other for ten minutes, neither one wanting to be the first to ask the simple question “Uh… what was your name again?”
It might be a guy thing. Like not stopping to ask for directions.