"People," I plugged along on the new topic, "ought to summarize their
professional, postschool lessons and see what they've learned. Consider
me. In New York, I once took boxing lessons. Can't box for a damn. In
Hollywood, I hired a strong man to live with me and teach me to lift
weights. I got all beefed up--and then got sick in Poland--and the beef
evaporated. I took lessons on the piano accordion for a year, once.
I've also taken piano lessons, saxophone lessons, and mandolin lessons.
Ukelele, too, in 1919. Can't play a note. Took golf lessons for years.
The last few times I played, I pushed 110. Took tennis lessons. Haven't
hit a ball over the net in twenty years. Got a whiz to teach me
ping-pong--for five bucks a throw. Can't return the serves of children.
Studied a couple of foreign languages, besides the ones in school and
college. Can't even say, 'Good morning' and 'Thanks' in 'em, any more.
And horses! Great God! Hired cowboys to murder me every day, all day,
for six months. Went to a dude ranch in the Carolinas and got briefed
in eastern saddles. Hundreds of saddle-hours. And what? Hate to ride.
Never do, if I can avoid it. Is that all? I haven't begun! Hired some
Olympic champs to give me fancy diving lessons. Got going good--and
found out in a couple of years I was slowing up--couldn't snap around
any more. Had to quit that. Spent a lot of time in the North Woods. Had
an Indian for a guide. Learned to stalk game. Learned to shoot--taught
by experts. Can't hit a barn. Don't enjoy hunting. Spent a fortune
deep-sea fishing. Don't even rate as an 'Expert' at my club. Bridge
lessons--God Almighty, the time I've fussed with that! And what? Some
days I'm fair--and some days I can't remember through jacks--which
is how I was when I began! Learned once to identify all the flora and
fauna in the Adirondacks. Moved away and never seen the region since.
Couldn't tell bluebells from burdock. Well, maybe those. But--"
"Is all that the truth?" Yvonne asked doubtfully.
Paul chortled. "The funny thing is, it is! Old Phil's spent his whole
life trying to discover something he could learn!"
"I draw myself up," I answered, "with dignity. As a modern gentleman,
I am the complete sciolist. The most-smattered man you'll meet in your
lifetime. There is almost nothing that I'm not slightly versed in and
pretty poor at. Why--I even took archery lessons, once. Got second
prize in Palm Springs--"
"Good heavens!" she said.
"I gave him some lessons in quantum theory, myself," Paul continued.
"Rotten student. Wants to know the final formulation and what it
means--and detests to brush up his calculus first. He can do magic
tricks, too--earned his high school pin money that way. He used to spin
ropes--jump through 'em. When I was a very small kid, I looked forward
to seeing him. Like a one-man circus. Then I caught on--at about four
years old. Uncle Phil was in kindergarten in about every subject there
was. Never got any farther. Just took different primary courses every
year."
"In a minute," I said, "I'll leave you guys to your libel and go back
to my serial. Somebody taught me how to write fiction, along there
someplace--"