Dad

one of my sisters decided put together a string of stories about my dad. the idea would be that there would be a story from each one of us. (nine stories all together; i am the eighth of nine chilren (no, there are no twins, and yes, we are all from the same parents).)

so, here was mine.

right before i graduated from college, i applied for the JET program. it was a program that brought people from English speaking countries to be ESL teachers in Japan. it is a really great program, paid very well (for someone coming out of a third tier university with an English Degree), was extremely competitive, and i really, really wanted to do it. so, i applied and was part of the 20% of applicants (or so) who got an interview.

after a month of preparation, putting together all the right paperwork, essays, research, etc, i headed over to my interview at the Japanese embassy. when i got there i realized that i didn't have my license with me, or any ID for that matter. the receptionist at the front desk let me know that he could not let me in to the interview without proper ID.

i started to sweat. for a month i had been imagining myself starting every day watching The Rising Sun over Mt. Fuji while i ate rice and planted a rock garden in a kimono and all that crap. i mean, i had not prepared myself for failing at this interview. i pleaded with the front desk person until i got to talk to a supervisor. and then i pleaded with the supervisor until i got to talk to HER supervisor. i let them know i lived right across town and if they could fit me in later or i could call over to my house and see if someone was there ortheycouldcallareferenceonmyapplicationandhavethemdescribewhatilooklik-OH HEY my checkbook! is this ID? will this work...?

they wouldn't admit me to the interview without verifying my identity, and they wouldn't reschedule. they excused me from the property, and wished me good luck if i chose to apply next year.

i was pretty broken up about the situation, (albeit to a somewhat melodramatic degree). i wrote an email to everyone in my family telling them what happened, and asking that no one reply to the email or ever talk to me about it again. everyone complied, except Dad.

Dad replied with an email that had no salutation or introduction, and did not include anything about my misfortune. it swept immediately into a story about Jerome Kern, who in early 1915 was a struggling Broadway composer. after some middling successes that were keeping his finances barely afloat, he scheduled yet another trip overseas in attempts to shop his wares on the stages of London. Unfortunately, on the day his ship was supposed to leave, Kern overslept and got to the docks after the boat had already pushed off.

it was May 1, 1915, and the ship he missed was the Lusitania. six days later, just off the coast of Ireland, the RMS Lusitania was torpedoed by a German U-Boat and sank in 18 minutes. 1,200 people died.

Kern went to London later, and eventually came back and wrote some of the most beloved songs of Broadway and Hollywood musicals alike, including "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes," "All The Things You Are," and "Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man." His career spanned 30 years, and he is widely considered to be one of the great composers of the American stage and screen.

"Sometimes," Dad wrote in the last line, "it pays to miss the boat."