After a glass of port following Sunday Dinner, my dad would try to make me feel better about not being as smart as my brother (Brothatime!)
"Hey, let's face it, you need to hit the books."
"Yeah."
"Not like this one, I mean he doesn't even need to look at the books, and he's all A's."
"So I hear."
"But you, you gotta hit the books. Like anyone else. And hey, it wouldn't take much, just - "
"twenty minutes a night"
"-twenty minutes, thats right, 20 minutes a night, that's all. You're a bright kid."
"Thanks!"
"Not as bright as this one, but smart!"
"Ah."
"Pretty smart. I mean, could be."
"Hmm."
"I guess."
" - "
"Hey, he's smart, but you got something different. Not smart like your brother, but something."
"Hmm."
"You got what the French call that 'je ne sais quos.'
"What does that mean?"
"'I don't know'"
"Great. You're not helping."
"No, that's what it means - an indescribable quality, in this case."
"Hmm."
"You've got, you know, chutzpah!"
"What's that?"
"It's a word the Jews use, you know, that special something."
And since I grew up in Tappahannock, VA I could honestly ask
"What are the Jews?"
"Never mind. My point is, you've got that special something. Different from your brother."
"Hmm."
"But you have to work to be smart. I mean, smart like him."
"Hmm."
"Hey, you're a smart kid. And don't worry about his grades, you shouldn't compare yourself to him."
"Really?"
"Of course not, he's REALLY smart!"
"But I've got, ah, what's it called, ah...hootsbrah?"
Brothahtime!: "chutzpah, idiot"
"You're an idiot!!"
"Boys, boys, no fighting...I believe your mother baked a pie?"
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