A Man's Gotta Do What a Man's Gotta Do

The Panhandle of Golden Gate Park, Summer 1987: On my way back from the store I walked along the eucalyptus trees in the Panhandle. This is an arm of Golden Gate park that extends between Lyon and Fell streets, and it's a great hangout for bums, lovers, basketball players, and me.

Just ahead of me, on a bench sat a young Hispanic couple. She looked miserable, with eyes red from crying, and just as I passed their bench I heard the young man saying, "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

It was so hard to keep from laughing.

And then I remembered an evening, just a few nights before ...

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The Yankee Devil

A small Japanese marketplace, 1959: My uncle Eugene, known as Commander Hurn in the Navy, was in charge of finances of a navy base in Japan, and had to learn to speak Japanese.

That's why he understoodd what the men said behind him in the marketplace. One man laughed, turning to the other.

"Look at the Yankee Devil," he said quietly, "and the red socks he wears."

Commander Hurn stiffened, and turned slowly, all dignity, to glare down from his 5' 11" height at the shorter men.

"Those are not my socks," he said slowly, in Japanese. "That is my underwear. And therefore it is not your concern."

The Japanese embarass easily. The men blanched, glanced at each other, and scurried away in different directions.