Geographical Impairment
In 1993, Dan was in fourth grade and signed up for geography club after school. Whether it was to hang out with his friends or if snacks were served, I don’t know, but he signed up and stayed after school once a week. One day he arrived home from his club meeting about the same time John (dad) got home from work. Getting a polysyllabic answer from Dan in regards to anything that had to do with school was a remarkable feat, and we tried all kinds of different ways to get a full sentence response out of him. The conversation went something like this:
“So, Dan! What did you learn in school today?”
“Aah-n-no” (with its traditionally accompanying shrug, this translates to: I don’t know)
“So, what kept you late after school?”
“Geography club” (the fact that this is four syllables and two words doesn’t really count, since it’s technically the title of an event, and thus singular in concept)
“And what did they teach you in geography club?”
“Aah-n-no.” With the shrug.
“Well, what DO you know? Let’s see, . . .what’s the capital of Peru?”
Blank, incredulous stare.
“No, you know this one. It’s easy. I’ll give you a clue. Lima beans.”
If there’s a gaping stare that reaches beyond incredulity, that’s the one John got for his hint. In sheer disbelief, Dan answered in a tone that clearly questioned his dad’s sanity, “Gross?”
The story became a family favorite, much to Dan’s annoyance, and at a family reunion not long afterwards, John was retelling it to his sister-in-law. As they were laughing about “Gross, Peru,” John’s brother Larry poked his head in the room and quipped, “Hey, didn’t he just run for president?”
Everyone’s a comedian these days.
