There’s a Japanese gardener by a Japanese garden at the bay. He said, “did you see Sunday’s paper?” I said, “yes.” “Did you see the picture?” My son said, “no — I don’t even know your name.” I know — your name is Henry. Well, he brought the paper — he was in the western section, in the Brentwood-Westwood area — and here’s a picture of his son, who is at UCLA, taking care of all these handicapped children and handicapped people, putting arms on them so they can use an artificial arm — some are born without the arm, and some lost the arm — and he is doing all this work. And here is a Japanese man, and he was so proud — in the past, when I would say to him, “you know, Henry, I like your garden,” he would always act as though he couldn’t understand English. Does he understand English? The day when he’s talking about his son, I could have been speaking to Churchill; and yet, in the past, he never understood English.1189 ¶37