Crash Course

Dad has a new/old project.

I come home the other day, walk through the living room, and find Dad, in his recliner, with a stack (and I mean a STACK) of all (and I mean ALL) of his "how to speak" Japanese books in his lap. There must have been at least a dozen of them. I'm tempted to make some wise-ass comment to him but figure I'll just let it go. Clearly, Dad has decided to reconnect with his unwavering zest for all things Asian. I'm thinking, I'll just sneak past him and head back to my room.

As usual, I'm wrong.

He hollers me back. "Denise!"

"Eeyah?" I retrace my steps and stand, awaiting his request.

He holds up one of his books, a tattered, edge-worn edition of "Japanese for Dummies." "Can you order me this on Amazon?"

"Sure, " I say dutifully, without asking the obvious question which is why he needs yet another book on speaking Japanese. Better to just humor the man. "Which one would you like, Dad?"

But my head can't really let it go.........I mean.......I just keep thinking........he already owns every book printed on how to speak Japanese. This is an ongoing pastime of Dad's. It has been for years. He LOVES anything Asian but particularly, anything Japanese. He counts in Japanese. When the eye doctor holds up fingers and asks Dad "how many?" Dad answers with the Japanese number. He'll sit in his chair for hours, engrossed in one of his Japanese books, mouthing the words and the sounds out loud. He rattles off Japanese phrases all the time, almost always when he's eating, and to nobody in particular because, in case I forgot to mention it, nobody else in our family speaks Japanese. For all we know, he's telling us all to go lick our butts but we'd never know it.

But back to Dad's book request. He addresses me in his characteristic You-Need-To-Listen-To-Me-Because-I'm-About-To-Tell-You-Something-You-Don't-Know tone, like he's about to unveil something utterly life-changing. He unveils his newsflash, "You know..........publishers print different editions of books."

I hate it when he does this! He starts talking to me about something he just assumes I couldn't possibly know anything about. And I want to say to him, Okay Dad..........Like........I'm a writer. I write freakin' textbooks Dad! I think I KNOW there are different editions of a book!"

Of course I just think all of that. In my head. Quietly to myself.

What actually comes out of my mouth is, "Eeyup." Then I wait for further instructions.

"Okay," he says oh-so-seriously. Not, just a casual "ok." It's more like "OKAY now listen up because this is reeeeally important. Picture..........I'm in a plane, the pilot just died, and Dad's the Flight Controller who's going to talk me down to safety.

He starts very carefully, instructively, "I want.........the latest edition.........of Japanese............For Dummies." Short pause because he assumes my brain needs time to process such complicated information. "Did you get that? Can you get that for me?"

"Yep. I'll go do it right now," and I turn to head to the office, to the computer, to visit Amazon.com, to place the order. I know the drill. I've been "talked down" before.

But he stops me again. "Wait!"

"Yeah!?" I stop. I wait. And what came next.......... I totally did NOT see coming.

"See if they have CHINESE for Dummies too."

What th.......?! Okay. CHINESE? My knee-jerk reaction is: Dad's almost 94 years old and he wants to learn CHINESE!? Isn't that like THE most difficult language to learn in the entire universe? Like.......aren't there like a gazillion different dialects of Chinese? Like.........don't you have to have like.........YEARS to devote to learning Chinese? Maybe decades?! In case anybody has forgotten, my dad is almost 94. Ninety......four.........years........OLD!

But of course I just THINK all of that. Because, I know, it's great that he wants to learn Chinese. Hey, now he can tell us all to lick out butts in two different languages.

What comes out of my mouth is a succinct, "Sure."

Then I turn toward the office again.

But......again he stops me, "WAIT!"

Uh oh. I'm thinking, now what? There's more? He wants to learn another language? He wants to learn.......what?.........one of those weird clicking languages too?

"Mandarin," he adds, "If there's a choice. Get the book on Mandarin."

"OK. Got it. Mandarin. Chinese. Newest edition of Japanese. Done."

Between you and me and the calendar on the wall, I can't help but think, just out of curiosity, how much Mandarin Chinese does Dad really think he'll be able to learn? I mean.........he IS 94 and all. And I know, I know........not that it matters. What matters is that he's pursuing something new, something that excites him, something to keep his brain stimulated. I get all that. Time means nothing to him and that's kind of a blessing. I swear I think my father seriously believes, most of the time anyway, that he's immortal. It amazes me. He amazes me.

Anyway, I turn toward the office again. He yells from the living room.

"Oh and hey! One more thing!"

Oh no. What now? Swahili?

I walk back into the room. I'm facing him. Waiting.

He looks at me, a little half-smile on his face, "Have it shipped overnight. It takes a long time to learn Chinese."

I smile back, chuckle, shake my head. "Eeyup. Got it, Dad."

My dad is not only ambitious. He is realistically ambitious.