Columbo's Indian Parts

Sometimes we have to gently correct the misguided or overly P.C. myths that public education still insists on teaching... and of course, our children's interpretations of them.

Dmitri climbed into bed with me this morning, all excited about their school's Thanksgiving Feast today and said, "My teacher says Columbo took a boat here so we'd all know the world is round."

"Well, sort of. His name was Christopher Columbus. And in 1492, the year he sailed to America, was the year the globe was first invented. We pretty much already knew the world was round."

(The first globe actually noted in history was the 1492 world globe made by the German map-maker Martin Behaim.)

"He discovered pilgrims."

"No, the pilgrims came over a different ship."

"Well, he discovered Indians."

"Yes, that's true." Sort of. I decided that we'd discuss ethnocentricity and the rape of the Native American people due to the forward domination of the Europeans later.

"There's another word for Indians and that's Native Americans."

Ahhh the P.C.ness of public schools. "That's right."

"Grandma says I'm part Indian."

"Yes, that's true." On his father's side. One of Michael's ancestors was a Native American princess of sorts.

"Which part?" he asked solemnly. "I think my toes are Indian. And this leg. Doesn't this leg look Indian to you?"

Laughter is the Best Medicine

They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but I honestly think the saying "laughter is the best medicine" carries more weight. (Do you think I could have fit some more trite phrases into that sentence if I tried a little harder?)

I've had people tell me they love my laugh. I don't get it, but all my life people have said it enough that I'm tempted to almost believe them. Apparently, it's infectious. My husband says my smile and laugh lights up a room. (But he has to say that, he married me, right?)

Still, I do love to laugh. My ex and I used to go to comedy clubs and come home with our sides aching from laughing so hard. I'm lucky now, though, that my husband makes me laugh every day. And he's especially good at it when I'm feeling sick or grumpy or headachy or premenstrual.

Michael has the goofiest sense of humor. He loves puns, plays on words, and strangeness. He comes up with thoughts and ideas that never would have occurred to me, which is why, I suppose, he surprises a laugh out of me at least twice a day.

Yesterday he came home for lunch and I was feeling cranky. It was one of those days I didn't feel like doing anything--including getting out of bed. Although I did anyway--begrudgingly.

We were cuddled on the couch while he idly flipped channels on the remote. (Ever notice how guys like to do that to sort of relax and zone out?) And inevitably, he skips over the shows I would stop at and stops at the ones I'd skip. It never fails.

So he paused briefly at one of those cop chase shows, "Disorderly Conduct" or some such thing. The voiceover is low and serious: "The suspect is driving ninety miles an hour, endangering life and limb, but the officers must proceed with caution, because they believe the suspect may be armed."

Michael snorts. "Of course he's armed. It would be hard to drive a car without arms, now wouldn't it?"

Surprised, I laugh out loud, shaking my head at his interpretation.

He flips for a while, we talk a little bit, he passes over good stuff like "The View" and "Family Feud" and somehow ends up back on the cop show again. We're watching a different car chase this time, a white Bronco going much faster than OJ's ever did, all over the road.

The announcer comes on, still deadly serious: "The driver, after failing the breathalyzer test and escaping in his vehicle, is now weaving, giving the officers a run for their money."

"Well no wonder he's all over the road," Michael says. "Thank god he wasn't knitting."

It took me a minute... what the--? Knitting? And then it clicks... ohhhhh, weaving... knitting. And again, I'm laughing, rolling my eyes and groaning, but laughing anyway.

And on it went... like a Mystery Science Theater in my living room. By the time he left again for work, I was in much better spirits than I had been before he came home for lunch.

He kissed me goodbye and said, "You know, you always cheer me up."

The feeling's mutual.