As the father of three small children, I’ve had ample opportunity to observe how people react when they meet a baby for thefirst time. After the requisite oohing and aahing over the baby’s cuteness, people almost always start trying to identify the source of the child’s facial features.
“Oh, he’s really got your eyes,” is an example of what I often hear about my seven-month-old son.
“You almost sound surprised,” I always shoot back, never one to let such a passive aggressive comment pass without a pointed response. “Of course he has my eyes — who’s eyes is he supposed to have? What are you implying, anyway?”
My anger-management issues aside, the subject of distinctive genetic identifiers was on my mind after a recent visit from my younger brother, Dan. Although he and I are, technically, only half-brothers and were raised in different households, no one spending more than two minutes with us could doubt that we are closely related. It’s not so much the physical resemblance (I’m much better looking) as the fact that in those few minutes, he and I would drop so many obscure references to “The Simpsons” and “Seinfeld” into the conversation that the observer would assume that we were not only closely related, but perhaps even spawned from the same alien pod.
Sadly, I have yet to find anyone who can tolerate listening to us for the requisite two minutes to test my theory. But if you’re concerned that all he and I do when we’re together is sit around quoting television shows, that’s not true; we also quote movies.
Admittedly, Dan and I take this behavior to extremes, but sprinkling movie and TV lines into conversation has become a critical element of American social interaction. If the U.S. government wanted a true test for immigrants’ suitability for citizenship, officials would drop all that obscure historical trivia even most native-born Americans don’t know, like who wrote the Constitution and how many stars are on the flag. Instead the test would consist of questions about how to appropriately drop TV and movie lines into conversation (requiring citations, naturally). Some sample questions might include:
Q When someone says, “Surely you can’t be serious?” how should you respond?
A “I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.” (“Airplane!”)
Q When asked what kinds of music you like, what is the appropriate answer?
A “I like both kinds, Country and Western.” (“Blues Brothers”)
Q What phrase should you utter whenever anyone shares with you a suspicion that someone else may be gay?
A “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” (“Seinfeld”)
Much as we in the general public enjoy quoting popular TV shows and movies, there is a downside for the actors who originally uttered the famous lines. Rumor has it that back in 1995, Tom Hanks grew so exasperated at fans’ demands that he say “Life is like a box of chocolates” for them that after dining at a posh L.A. restaurant, he finally snapped and bludgeoned a Dayton, Ohio, couple half to death with his Oscar. The Academy Award-winner would no doubt have been caught by police if not for the quick thinking of other diners, who immediately began shouting to the half-dazed Hanks, “Run, Forrest, run!”
Anyway, much as my wife enjoyed my brother’s visit, after he left she wondered whether, with all the movie and TV references, the two of us ever talked about anything of substance.
“Did you get the chance to connect, you know, to talk about things that really matter, your feelings, concerns about the future, that type of thing?” she asked.
“Of course we did,” I replied. “That’s when we talked about sports.”
Examiner columnist Malcolm Fleschner is listed at 6 foot 5 inches, with the afro 6 foot 9 inches.
