Jimmy, who had named the car “Ruth,” drummed the wheel with his thumb as he made a sharp right turn. Nick, his forty-ish son, rode shotgun, quietly picking his teeth. As they cruised away from a large Greek dinner, the song “Brazil” boomed out of the radio, then summarily ended, as most things do.
“Brazil!” sang Jimmy. “When hearts were entertaining June!”
Nick shifted in his seat and said, “The right words are ‘entertained in June,’ not ‘entertaining June.’”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“I know for a fact that I’m right.”
“You know for a fact?”
Nick bristled, then dug in his heels: “The lyrics are ‘Brazil, when hearts were entertained in June.’”
“If that’s the way that you hear them,” said Jimmy. “I happen to hear them a different way.”
“You can’t just hear something a certain way.”
“I’m entitled to my opinion.”
“Your opinion isn’t relevant.”
“So now I’m not allowed to have opinions?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did! Just now!”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“I’M TWISTING YOUR WORDS?”
“Look, Dad…everyone’s entitled to an opinion.”
“Agreed,” said Jimmy, with conviction.
“But in some cases,” Nick continued, “opinions have nothing to do with the situation at hand. In this case, the song lyrics were either written one way, or another.”
“And I told you how I hear them.”
“Yeah. You could also make the declaration that you’re an aardvark. You could stand on a roof and tell the whole world, ‘I’m an aardvark!’ That does not make you an aardvark.”
Jimmy muttered in Greek and made the sign of the cross.
“Whenever we’re in the middle of a conversation, you always start talking about aardvarks. No matter what we’re discussing, it’s only a matter of time before you bring up aardvarks. The next time we have a discussion, I’m going to time it, to see how long it is before you start talking about the aardvarks.”
“All right,” Nick conceded. “Aardvarks are a bad example.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” said Jimmy.
“Look…I told you what the lyric is. If you want to go on living in your little fantasy world, go ahead, but I KNOW what that lyric is. ‘Entertaining June?’ What the hell does that mean? They were entertaining the month of June?”
“June could also be the name of a person.”
“But if June were a name, that still would not make sense in the context of the song. All you have to do is listen to the song lyrics. If you listen to the song lyrics, it becomes crystal clear that they were entertained in June.”
“We don’t even know who we’re talking about,” said Jimmy, gesturing erratically. “Who are ‘they?’”
“The writers of the song,” said Nick. “The writers of the song were entertained in June.”
He crossed his arms and looked out the window.
“Wait,” he said. “That’s not it.”
He thought for a long time before continuing.
“It’s Brazil, and lovers are being entertained. It doesn’t matter who they are, specifically. The song is setting up a situation and a mood. It’s not a documentary.”
“You know something?” said Jimmy. “The next time it plays, we’ll listen carefully, and we can settle it then.”
“Why not just look it up on the internet?” said Nick.
He switched off the radio and took out his cell phone.
“You’re right!” boomed Jimmy. “About everything!”
“But all I have to do is look up the lyrics.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve listened to that song? A thousand times, before you were even born! The lyrics are always the same! Damn right they were entertaining June!”
“If you don’t want to be logical, there’s nothing more to discuss,” said Nick, settling in and closing his eyes.
They drove for a while, over multiple bumps.
“How was your tilapia?” asked Nick.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” shouted Jimmy. “Where did you get this attitude? It wasn’t from your mother and me. We raised you, and you abandoned us.”
“Dad, it’s a song! It’s a stupid song! You’re so deaf that you can’t hear the lyrics, and suddenly it’s my fault? I come all the way to Florida to spend time with you, because I love you, and you pull this? Go to hell!”
Jimmy grunted loudly. Nick grunted loudly.
After a few minutes, Jimmy said, “Do me a favor. Just don’t even speak to me for the rest of your trip.”
Nick turned the radio back on. He wasn’t gentle, and the knob got jostled away from the Big Band station.
A Kenny Rogers song was playing: “You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille, with five hungry kids and a crop in the field. You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille.”
The song stretched on like a second road.
“Lucile!” Jimmy suddenly cried. “Why did you do it?”
He and Nick began to laugh hysterically.
“LUCILLE!” Jimmy wailed.
They laughed like lunatics, going down the road, with storm clouds hanging above them, but also Polaris.