My late daddy, who was
fluent in Spanish, had a funny story he used to tell us from when he was in
college at Tulane University after WWII.
He happened to meet a
rather portly gal, "Rosita," who was also of Spanish descent but never had
adequately picked upon the language.
Also, she had a secret
crush on Dad and had pleaded with him once at school to help her with her
Spanish lessons.
Daddy, being a classy
gentleman, certainly agreed to try to help Rosita with this and then arranged
to meet her once at her house - and made clear that he was not trying to make
any romantic overtones towards her.
When dad arrived at
Rosita's house that afternoon, he was first treated by Rosita's dad to all
kinds of endearment like some Spanish jokes, a very welcoming embrace, a glass
of wine, and a nice meal before my daddy helped Rosita in her linguistic
endeavors.
As my dad began to
realize that Rosita's dad had long-term plans for this Spanish learning
encounter, he quickly exited the residence as a festive tune started playing on
an LP record in the background.
But unlike the song, my dad
had all of his legs intact, and he certainly used them all to quickly get out
of what was conspiring to be a permanent "Berlitz arrangement."
What song?
"La
Cucaracha," which certainly applies to some of the big roaches that I've seen
for myself in my native Yat hometown!
