Year 2004-2005

Ah Americans!



I worked-out in the gym yesterday after 8 hours of hospital work, pretty tiring but enjoyable. I am raising my weight-resistance now to 110 lbs. Quite ambitious but hey, as long as I am having fun. I wish to write a story today, dying to write something fictional.

I am thinking about Johann, the Dutch Therapist who supervised me in my first year in America.

"Ah, Americans", he'd grunt, in a tone half-mocking, expressed with a combination of arrogance and "that" European superior sigh, like that of a sophisticated man opining about his subordinate, "Ah Americans."

Which meant, as usual, something Americans do without common sense, like driving in snow.

"The Southerners are funny, just look how scared they get with snow".

I would always agree with him, not that I understood his criticisms of America, but because I knew nothing - nothing about driving - nothing about snow. Nothing about America. Nothing about Holland.

One time he was pulled over by a traffic officer for speeding. He asked, "Why would you Americans set your car speedometers up to 120 miles per hour and order everyone not to go beyond 65? Wouldn't it be easier for you guys to just set all your cars' speedometers 65 and below so you won't be chasing us down the highways?"

Johann got me into his own Dutch way. He introduced me to money management: "Make sure you save at least 20% of your salary for your old age. And no matter what, even if it meant you'd borrow and sell, you should not touch that 20% of your salary until your over 65".

It was a suggestion I took to heart and which, at this time, I am very grateful to this proud Dutch for.

"There is a difference between Dutch and German last names", he lectured me while he taught me driving , "the Dutch use Van, the Germans use Von." Johann introduced me to European names and sense, that search for quality and sufficient preparations for rainy days. He had an absolute contempt towards superficial, insignificant values. But despite it all, no matter how good his pretense was, he was in pain.

It took a while for me to figure out the many struggles of Johann in America that created intense bitterness in his heart.

He started as a Physical Therapist in Nashville. He was in Nashville to be closer to Vanderbilt University, then one of the medical centers dedicated to the cure of Multiple Sclerosis, a disease, which Johann suffered from.

Despite his condition, he made sure his life was lived in a normal way. He got married to an American woman, worked his butt off, supported the girl back to school, but as days went by, his multiple sclerosis got worse.

In the end, I was more worried about him falling BEFORE his patients did.

One night, in the middle of the night, he knocked on my door and said, "The bitch got me."

"What happened?" I asked.

"She's with his English professor. She's a bitch, I am telling you. I spent a fucking 20,000 dollars for her education and this is what I get! An affair with his damn English Professor. Since my disease got worse she began threatening me with a divorce."

He raised his shaky arm in anger and sadness.

He then sighed, "Ah Americans!"

Oh well...