Oh, so your mother is Dutch.

Alexander Calica, II,
Carlsbar, CA.

This phrase was often used by adults when I was growing up after hearing my answer to their question,
“What nationality are you?” I would always respond by saying, “My father is Filipino and my mother is Dutch.” The initial inquiry would be posed after having heard me speak at length. Policemen would say it after singling me out for questioning when walking with my friends Carl Nothwang, timothydKeim, and Harold Weisbecker.I grew up in the post World War II suburbs os San Diego. New teachers woudl inquire about my nationality after having performed exceptionally well on an assignment. Sometimes I had earned among the higher scores of the class. Parents of friends and other authority figures would pose the inevitible question after being introduced to them and after having engaged me in conversation. This ritual followed me through grade school, college and throughout much of my professional life. Each time the phrase was used it was delivered as a declaritive statement with emphasis on the last two words. The user would always seem to be expressing relief of having solved a perplexing problem, having come to some sort of satisfying finality. Apparently, my appearence presented itself enigmatcally to my words and actions.


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