February 20, 2020

The Things I Know

I have a text from Mike. ‘Hey Ron, call me. I have a good story. Better than Dubrovnik.’

I understand what he is referring to.

For many years, I used to make restaurant reservations under the name Dubrovnik. This was long before the breakup of the former Yugoslavia and certainly long before the Croatian seaside resort became a de riguer destination for tourists.

I don't know why I picked the name. My family name is neither difficult to remember nor to pronounce. I liked the sound of it. And I liked I knew of its existence. And who could not take pleasure in hearing the hostess call out: “Dubrovnik, party of six. Your table is ready.”

Dubrovnik.

It’s just something I know.

Another thing I know is the capital of Burkina Faso. It is Ouagadougou. One of the great all-time names. It is also just fun to say. Go ahead and say it.

I also know Burkina Faso used to be called Upper Volta.

I know Timbuktu is a real place.

I know where it is. It is in Mali. I know it is not the capital, which by the way, is Bamako.

Another great name.

Timbuktu has a special place in my heart because it is featured in one of my father’s favourite poems.

Tim and I a hunting went,
When we came across three women in a tent.
As they were three and we were two,
I bucked one and Timbuktu.

Am not sure how my father, a scientist and intellectual who spoke seven languages, ever came to this poem, but he loved it and would start laughing, displaying his crooked teeth, well before the final line.

I know the longest word in the world.

pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

And I still know how to spell it.

Cross my heart.

I know the name and height of the tallest mountain in North America. Denali in Alaska. 20,320 feet. I know it used to be called Mount McKinley.

I know how to convert centigrade to Fahrenheit.

I know all the words of the Lord’s Prayer.

I know who Yossarian is. I know both Franny and Zooey.

I know Elton John used to be called Reginald Dwight and Bob Dylan was originally Robert Allen Zimmerman.

As the son of a chemical engineer, I know that N is nitrogen and Na is sodium.

I know Napoleon was exiled in Elba and died in St. Helena.

I know the names of the two catchers on the 1969 Montreal Expos.

John Bateman.

John Boccabella.

Another fun word to say.

These are some of the things I still know.

But so does Siri. So does Google. In a matter of seconds, anyone and everyone in the world can know as much as me. That and so much more. Truth be told, what I know is of no use. Has no value. What has value today is knowing how to find the things you do not know.

But I can't seem to delete the things I know and put them in the trash in order to make room for other, more useful things, like, for example, where I have left my keys.

So like the expired condom in my wallet, I carry them around without any expectation I will ever need to use them.

I call Mike back. He is a dentist in Ottawa. He launches into his story without exchanging any pleasantries.

“So I have a new patient in the chair the other day. She's come in for a checkup. She has an accent, so I ask her where she’s from. She says, get this, from Burkino Faso. I almost wet myself from excitement. Have been waiting nearly 30 years for this moment.”

“Jesus, you lucky bastard. So, what did you do?”

“I played it cool for a second. Examined a couple of her back molars and then said, real casual-like, ‘I heard Ouagadougou is beautiful in the spring.’ She almost fell off the chair!”

“Oh my god. Unbelievable. I am so jealous.”

“It was beautiful, Ron. Better than I had imagined. Hope it happens to you one day.”

I hope so too.

Until then, I can only hope the internet crashes.

The end.