"I don't understand cats and I don't understand women," confessed a foreign friend, half to me and half to his mug of beer. I leaned in closer to listen.
"Yet I can live with that. But . . . this other thing . . . it's driving me nuts. If you know the answer, please, please, tell me."
The man had a Japanese wife whom he had left at home and a facial tic that he had brought along. His left eye jerked like a frog leg wired to a dry cell.