Yolanta in Leicester

When I was studying in London during the 1985-1986 school year, doing my second year of law school at Notre Dame, I briefly stayed at a hotel that happened to meet a very nice-looking Polish lady named Yolanta who I asked out. We went out a couple of times and I especially remember the evening when we went to see Gregory Hines, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Isabella Rossellini in White Nights. In the course of the film, there was a shot of Isabella Rossellini wearing a gold ring on the third finger of her right hand. I remember that was the custom in Eastern Europe. As I escorted Yolanta home to the family she was staying with, I noticed she had a ring on the third finger of her right hand. I asked her, “Have I been dating a married woman?” Yolanta studied the tops of her shoes for a moment and said, in a rather sad voice, “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

We talked later and she told me that she had been in England for several months, working on her English (which was excellent.) Her husband and young son were back in Lodz. Back in 1986, the Polish government wasn’t taking any chances on their skilled workers defecting. She also mentioned that her friends told her she was crazy to leave her husband at home alone. I saw Yolanta a few more times, and things stayed G-rated. That is to say, the last time I saw her was in Leicester Square. She was about to catch her flight home out of Heathrow. I don’t know why this popped into my mind, but I said, “Let’s just kiss and say goodbye.”

I did not give her a peck on the cheek. I kissed her about the same way I would kiss Angelina Jolie if I had the chance. (And I doubt Angelina Jolie could be as fine a kisser as Yolanta turned out to be.) I hope my readers will kindly note that I do NOT make a habit of kissing married women.

That story has an interesting post script. I had given Yolanta my address. About a week after I got back to the States, I received a letter from Yolanta. She informed me that in the months she’d been in England, her husband had COMPLETELY jumped the fence and was having an affair with another woman. She sounded utterly distraught and mentioned that she was thinking of seeing a psychologist and, in a sentence that chilled my blood, said that she had contemplated suicide.

I did not have a phone number I could use to call Yolanta. Within the hour, I had sent a letter back to her via express mail informing her that whatever she was going through, her young son should never have to deal with his mother’s suicide. (A subject I know entirely too much about.) I told her that I was certain that her husband would come back to his senses and return to her and if, by some minute chance he didn’t, that men would line up around the block for a chance to be with such a fine lady as she.

A few weeks later, I received another letter from Yolanta. She informed me that her husband had seen the error of his ways, and they were back together. We corresponded occasionally for a number of years after that. I sometimes imagine that if her husband ever inquired about the letters she received from the USA, she certainly would be within her rights to say, “Yeah, that’s from the American who kissed me in Leicester Square. Do you have a PROBLEM with that, Romeo?”

Twenty-four years later, I still relish the memory of that one long, perfect kiss in Leicester Square.

Expert Commentary on The Military Channel

I frequently watch the documentaries on cable TV’s Military Channel. I recently had the absolutely priceless experience of watching a documentary on the training of US Army Rangers while sitting on the same sofa with a retired US Marine First Sergeant who spent five years on a drill field. Every time the documentary showed someone who had messed up, my companion would say in a split second, either “that’s dishonest, that’s unacceptable, he is gone, gone, gone,” or “he’s got a good attitude; he’ll be back.”

In one exercise, Ranger teams had to simulate carrying an injured pilot to safety. One team slung the 200-pound weight underneath two sections of pipe to carry the simulated pilot a couple of miles to safety. My companion immediately pointed out that they had screwed up big-time. The key to evacuating a wounded comrade is to carry them as high as possible, since a high center of gravity makes for a much easier carry.

My Conversation With a “Grape”

A few weeks ago, while standing in line at the San Diego airport to catch my flight back to Columbus, I found myself standing beside a tall young man (about 6’5”) who was wearing a peacoat and whose hair was cut quite short. I asked him if he was in the service and he said that he had ten years in, and was off the USS Ronald Reagan. When I asked his rate, he said ABM, which an old seadog like myself means, “Aviation Bosun’s Mate.” He added, “I’m a grape.” Those of us who have been on board aircraft carriers know that the crewmen assigned to the flight deck wear different-colored turtleneck shirts. Plane handlers wear white, catapult people wear yellow, ordnance men wear red and fuel handlers wear purple. (That’s why they’re called “grapes.”)

We chatted for a bit. I told him about my experience teaching college classes on board Navy ships with the PACE (Program for Afloat College Education). I commented that I hope he never missed a chance to take a college class because life tends to go a whole lot easier if you have a Bachelor’s degree. He gave a good-natured chuckle and said, “Tell me about it. I just finished up my Master’s in psychology. I haven’t used all my GI Bill benefits, but I hope to finish my doctorate when I get out.”

Moral of the story: do not ever underestimate the intelligence of the people we have serving in our Armed Forces.

Chuukese Love Sticks

While serving as public defender on the island of Yap in the Federated States of Micronesia, I had occasion to have two brief layovers on the island of Chuuk. (During WW II, the island was known as Truk.) I managed to do a very brief bit of shopping at the airport. I learned that Chuuk’s most distinctive product is the manufacture of “love sticks.” They are short, ornately carved pieces of wood that were traditionally used as a tool for courtship. A young Chuukese fellow would push his love stick through the side of a hut and the young lady would either push it away (indicating she was not interested), pull on it (meaning “come on in), or wiggle it, indicating “I’ll be right out.” I suppose if she doesn’t like the guy, she could break the stuck, which strikes me as a little drastic.

I purchased a nice collection of love sticks for myself. I honestly wonder why the government of Chuuk doesn’t market that product far more aggressively than they do. I can only imagine what the response would be if a guy approached a lady at a bar and told her, “You know, I have a 12-inch love stick.”

I was only on Chuuk for a few hours, so I can’t say if there is a Chuukese Chuck E. Cheese.

Pie on Pi Day

March Fourteenth unofficially marks “Pi Day,” as Pi= 3.14159. Two weeks ago, I had the good fortune of being in San Diego and I got an invite to visit my dear friend Barbara, who bakes pumpkin pies that are simply not of this earth. I thought, “Me oh my, I’m a lucky guy, today I get high on Barb’s pumpkin pie.”

I try to avoid theological arguments, but I will suggest that anyone who has had a slice of Barbara’s pumpkin pie will have a hard time arguing that Heaven is not real.

Pitch Perfect Pistol Product Placement

For many years, I thought that no actor could ever do a better job of providing a movie endorsement for a pistol than Clint Eastwood did for the Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum in the film, Dirty Harry. (“I know what you’re thinking, punk. Did he shoot five times, or was it six? To tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I don’t know myself. But seeing how this is the .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, if I got one left, it’s gonna take your head clean off, so you gotta be asking yourself: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”) I wonder if the board at Smith & Wesson sends Mr. Eastwood Christmas cards.

Shortly before the turn of the previous century, the Israelis manufactured a new pistol called the “Desert Eagle .50” that fires a gargantuan round of immense impact, but dubious practicality. The recoil from firing a single round just might break the shooter’s wrist. In 2000, Vinnie Jones, a former soccer player, appeared in a film called Snatch, in which he plays a character named Bullet-Tooth Tony. He is sitting in a pub, sipping a beer and sitting on a suitcase full of contraband when three young men who are wearing ski masks approach him, waving pistols in his face and demanding that he hand over the suitcase. Bullet-Tooth Tony takes a sip of his beer, then calmly explains to the fearsome-looking trio that there are two kinds of cojones. Guys with little one carry pistols that have “replica” printed on their sides, and guys with big ones carry pistols engraved with “Desert Eagle .50.” He then points his fifty-caliber at them and says, “F*** off.” The trio of would-be thieves vacates the premises post-haste.

Sandra Bullock’s New Guy

I rarely spend much time worrying about the marital escapades of celebrities. However, even as jaded a character as I was shocked at the egregious behavior of Sandra Bullock’s soon-to-be-ex-husband, Jesse James. In my humble opinion, Ms. Bullock would do well to hook up with a new boyfriend named Robert Ford to see what Mr. Ford could do for her. (Wild West buffs will get this immediately; others will have to think about it.)