Tuesday, August 13, 2019
The first time my family moved to the US from England I found out I had been doing everything wrong. My shoes were wrong. My socks were wrong. My trousers (pants??) were wrong. My shirts were wrong. My haircut was definitely wrong. I spoke the wrong way and I didn't know the right things about sports or television or most of the things that mattered.
Somehow, after a while I made some friends. One of them was Tim, who showed me the right sports (baseball, hockey), the right tv (Ren and Stimpy, The Simpsons), and the right way to hang out (play or watch those things). And where Tim's sense of cool ended, Tim's dad's picked up. Cars were cool - the older the better. Black and white movies were cool - same rule applies. Mexican night for dinner was really cool.
Taking Tim and his friends to the carnival was cool. Patiently smiling and staying with the one who said ferris wheels rotate differently where he comes from and so he'd rather not go on it was cool.
Helping that kid figure out how to skate on a pond was cool.
Minor league baseball games were cool. Car shows were cool. Taking that same kid home in the middle of a sleepover, yet again, probably wasn't all that cool, but the kid never noticed.
Until Mr. Dela Motte told me otherwise I thought "Dr. J" was a weird nickname for Michael Jordan. I mean, come on.
I owe a lot to Mr. Dela Motte and there's not much I can do to repay it. But if my daughter ever makes friends with a kid struggling to figure out which way is up, I'll know exactly what to do.
