a good bet

I should be studying for a test, but instead, I feel like sharing a few stories. I was inspired because of a 4 years old girl I babysat last night. As her mother was about to leave for an evening out, this little one whispered something in her ear. Later, Jessica told me her daughter had said, "Mommy, Stephanie is very tall." Her husband said he'd prefer that she whisper things when she isn't sure that the comment could offend, rather than screaming, "Look at that fat man, daddy!" It reminded me of a story my mother loves to tell.

In my third grade year, we lived in Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. My mother was a budding Officer's Wife, and held teas and other such nonsense at the house regularly. This meant that a few days before any event, there was much scrubbing down of the house and of us three kids, along with reminders by the minute of how important it was that we behave ourselves.

On one such occasion, my mother charged me with answering the door and welcoming our guests. Strict instructions were given. I was to open the door, dutifully greet the guest(s), then ask them, "Please, won't you come in?" and direct them to the living room area. I have to say that I was pretty proud of my skills as a greeter.

Then came my neighbor, Jeffrey, and his mother. "Hello, Mrs. So-and-So! Did you know that your son, Jeffrey has a very large head?" (He did, too. Like a planet, or Heath from So I Married an Axe Murderer. A gi-normous head.) I heard a sharp intake of breath and felt a hand grasping my collar at my back of my neck. Oh, no. My mother was NOT pleased. I sputtered, "But MOM! I was telling the truuuuuuuuth! You always say we should tell the truth!" Unceremoniously, my mother marched me up the stairs to my room, silent until the door was closed. Through clenched teeth, she pointed at me and said, "Wait until your father gets home." Now that had me trembling in my boots... and I can honestly tell you that I was much more careful in my word choice after that little incident. :)

And on a note more related to the comment about my height referenced above... People often ask if I was asked about my height when I lived in China. And to that I say: Why, yes. Yes, I did. In fact, some of the first words I learned in Chinese were "I am very tall. I am 180 cm." Often, we discussed the commonly held theory that Americans are tall because we drink milk, so I must have reeeeeeaaaally enjoyed drinking milk. As a show stopper, I'd pull out the photo with me standing between my two brothers, both of whom are 6'6" tall. And my favorite story of all...

I was in Da'Shan, a very small village with a distinct lack of hotels with heating (not so convenient in the dead of winter in the mountains). One of my hiking shoes had split in the heel, so I sought out a cobbler who worked from a little box on the side of a street. As I stood waiting for my shoe, an elderly man approached me quite timidly. In Chinese, he asked if I could understand him. I told him I could only speak a few words. He commented that his friends had noticed my height, and they wondered if I knew Yao Ming, the infamous basketball player. I laughed and said no. He asked if I knew how tall I was in meters, and I told him. He grinned, shook my hand vigorously, and rushed back to his crowd of friends, all dressed in the uniform blue suit. The cobbler and I watched in amazement as the men began exchanging money. I couldn't believe it.

... they'd bet on how tall I was!!!